Get Out Alive
by Maddie Rose
Summary: It's the 50th Hunger Games, and Haymitch Abernathy isn't expecting to survive the bloodbath let alone become the victor. Follow Haymitch's tumultuous journey in the arena from the start to the heart-breaking end.
1. Chosen

**Chapter One: Chosen**

**A/N: Hey everyone. I've been interested in writing a story about Haymitch's Games for some time. Unfortunately this isn't a submit-your-own-tribute story. I hope you enjoy it anyway. Most of it will be in Haymitch's perspective from the start, but at the Capitol I'm going to alternate between tributes. **

**Anyway, here's the beginning of Haymitch's story. At the end are all 48 (whoa…so many…) tributes.**

* * *

><p>There is one day in each year that everyone in District 12 hates and fears. I can't speak for the other districts, because in Career districts like 1 and 2, it is seen as the highest honour. My stomach roils with dread because when I wake up, I hear the solemn voices of my mother and younger brother, Lucan, downstairs. That's when I remember <em>today <em>is that day. Today is the reaping.

I groan into my pillow, wanting to stay forever in the soft warmth of my bed. The blankets form a protective cocoon around me and I wish that could give me comfort. The sun shines bright through a crack in the curtains. It looks like it's going to be a deceptively lovely day.

"Haymitch!" Mum's voice is sharp, rousing me from my reverie, "I know you're awake. It's time to get up. Em's here."

It's the thought of Em, not the smell of bacon, that makes me get up like a shot. I quickly pull a shirt down over my head, struggling to get my arms through the holes, and stumble downstairs where the others are waiting for me.

Emaleigh Dallas, my lovely girlfriend, is sitting at the table with her chin rested on her hand as she chats to Lucan. I admire all of her…her vibrant crimson hair, her creamy pale skin that indicates she's from a wealthier family than most. Then she turns to smile at me and even though we've been going out for eight months, my stomach still does a little flip of joy when she smiles like that.

"Haymitch!" she exclaims, her chair screeching in protest as she pushes it back and flings herself into my waiting arms. That's another beautiful thing about Em. Even though it's reaping day, she still manages to muster enthusiastic and never lets anyone get her down. Em is warm and smells of something sharp and tangy. I think it's cloves.

I lean in and give her a quick peck on the lips. Em knows that I find it embarrassing to have a full-on make-out session in front of my family. Even the brief kiss manages to make Lucan poke his tongue out in disgust.

"Urgh, Haymitch! Get a room!"

My mother and brother both love Em, though. Mum thinks she's the most wonderful girl in the whole of District 12, while Lucan thinks she's great because Em treats him like he's not just a thirteen-year-old kid.

We all sit down and eat breakfast, the four of us. Em's practically an extension of our family and she chatters away without a care in the world.

I, on the other hand, stare down at my bacon and dread what today might hold. It's the 50th Hunger Games and 2nd Quarter Quell. This means something changes and President Snow had announced it – this year, twice the number of tributes would be sent into the arena. Two boys and two girls from District 12 would be sent to their deaths.

"You okay?" Em asks softly, her beautiful brown eyes boring into my Seam grey ones. She looks concerned and I don't like getting her worried, so I force a smile and nod as I cut my bacon, wondering why the Capitol so enjoys tormenting us.

* * *

><p>I brush Em's vivid hair back from her neck with cold fingers as I tie the olive-green ribbon in it. She smiles at our reflections in the mirror – her, the beautiful red-haired girl and me, the dark-haired boy from the Seam. Why Emaleigh Dallas picked me I don't think I'll ever know. She turns to face me and stands up on her toes to kiss me on the cheek.<p>

"I know you're worried," Em accuses, concern dancing in her eyes, "Don't be. There are so many people of reaping age. It's so unlikely that you'll be picked."

I don't fear for myself. I fear for Em and my brother, Lucan. Last year it was just Lucan I had to worry about, because I didn't have Em then. But now I do, I know that I can't bring myself to lose her. Now that there are four tributes being picked, I know it's doubly as likely.

We head down to the arena, Mum, Lucan, Em and I. Lucan looks like he wants to say something to Em and I, but instead he just shakes his head slowly and makes his way into the throng of thirteen-year-olds. A few call out his name. Lucan's always been pretty popular at school.

Em and I move to the sixteen-year-olds section and she releases my hand for a moment to wave to some girls in the fifteen-year-olds section. Two of them are blonde-haired – they're the Donner twins, Maysilee and Moira – and the other is dark-haired, like me…she's Lila Faulkner. They wave back and then we slip in amongst the others our age.

The District 12 victor is a man in his late fifties by the name of Cairo Mellark. His oldest grandson, Henri, is in the same year as Em and I at school. His age just proves how much District 12 sucks. Cairo has been our only victor over 50 long years and that doesn't seem like it's about to change anytime soon.

Our escort steps up and taps the microphone and I wince in anticipation. The escort is a very proper woman called Libya Donavan. She forces a smile and I can tell she wishes she was in a better district than 12, where she might actually be looking over a sea of enthusiastic faces rather than this gloom.

I yawn loudly as Libya starts with the whole speech about Panem and how it came to exist, how there were 13 districts but during the Dark Days, they rose up against the Capitol. District 13 was destroyed and as punishment, the Hunger Games were introduced so that the districts could pay for what they'd done. In reality, it was just manipulation, the Capitol demonstrating their power over all of us.

"Now for the tributes. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favour."

I'm not sure how long I hold my breath. All I know is that my hand tightens around Em's as we both stand there, waiting in anticipation for Libya to announce the first female tribute. _First…_okay, now I'm feeling sick.

"Pandora Twist!"

The name is vaguely familiar. I watch as a girl with wild ringlets steps out from the thirteen-year-olds section. She's probably one of Lucan's friends from school. I watch with a sense of detachment as she clenches her small hands into fists, and there's a fierceness in her dark eyes as she walks to her doom.

"Now for the first boy…" Libya moves across to the other glass bowl. I know my name's in there. I swallow hard and all I can hope is that she doesn't draw my name. Not mine or Lucan's.

"Torian Charlton!"

A good-looking blond boy from the seventeen-year-olds section steps out. He's tall and has some muscle, so he's clearly not from the Seam. He strides confidently up to the stage, completely dwarfing little Pandora, who is now staring at her feet and looks like she's trying not to cry.

Libya crosses back over to the girl's smile, with a self-conscious smile that says she knows she looks like an idiot running all around the place. There's no sympathy for the tributes at all and I can feel myself burning with anger. All Libya cares about is how _she _appears.

"Maysilee Donner."

There's a shrill cry from the fifteen-year-olds section. Moira has burst into horrified tears and is clutching at Maysilee's hands, but there's a resolute expression on Maysilee's face as she pulls her arms free. Lila's face has turned pale and she's got an arm around Moira's shoulders, holding her tight as she sobs freely.

Em gasps in shock as Maysilee passes us by, her eyes shining with determination. I give Em's hand a comforting squeeze and she smiles at me for a fleeting moment…but then Libya is speaking again.

"Haymitch Abernathy."

Em screams in shock as I release her hand. For some reason, I'm not surprised. It's almost like I've been expecting this. I don't even dare to look and see Lucan's face, because I know he'll be just as distraught as Em. I just square my shoulders and move towards the stage, move towards my imminent death.

I don't even really pay attention to the other tributes. Pandora, who has broken down in tears. Torian, whose jaw is clenched. Maysilee, who stares over the now-silent crowd with a cold, unforgiving gaze. I'm one of them now. I'm a tribute of the Hunger Games and I have no doubt that I'm going to die.

* * *

><p>Em is the first into the Justice Building. She sprints across towards me and throws herself into my arms, crying heartbrokenly into my shoulder. I smell her sweet scent and feel her hair brush against my face. My heart aches with how much I love her…how much I'm going to miss her.<p>

"I love you," she whispers desperately, her soft breath tickling my ear, "I love you so much, Haymitch Abernathy."

I wrap my arms around her and hold her tight, kissing her forehead. Yet despite her close proximity, I feel so very alone. I'm going into the arena and against forty-seven other tributes, I know I don't stand a chance at survival.

"I'll never regret you," Em murmurs, pressing her lips fiercely and urgently to mine, so that I can taste her bittersweet sadness, "You'll always be a part of me, Haymitch."

I laugh shakily. "Hey, Em. I'm not dead yet."

She chokes back a laugh and stands back to allow Mum and Lucan room. Lucan throws his arms around me and for a few minutes, the pair of us just stand there in complete silence. Then he fiddles in his pocket and pulls out a white pawn – my favourite piece in the game of chess. I stifle my surprise.

"You're allowed a token," Lucan reminds me, "This is yours."

Mum is trying to keep it together, but after a few moments she can't take it anymore. The silent tears stream down her cheeks as she kisses my head and rhythmically strokes back my hair as if I'm six years old again. I can't stand it because I think I might break down myself.

"Mum," I say hoarsely.

"My baby boy," Mum murmurs, kissing my head again, "I love you. No matter what happens, we'll all be proud of you."

I nod fervently, not trusting myself to speak. Mum and Lucan leave as they exit, Em presses her lips to mine for possibly the last time and then follows them. I think I'm done with visitors, but then a slim blonde girl enters. It's Moira Donner.

I watch a little suspiciously as she crosses the room towards me. Why is here to see me? Moira approaches with a sad little smile and then she takes my hands in her cold ones and looks me right in the eye.

"Please, promise me you'll try and look after my sister."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "I can't do that. It's the Hunger Games. We're all fending for ourselves."

Moira's eyes plead with me to listen. "Haymitch…I'm sorry that this has happened to you. I know that you and Emaleigh love each other very much. I'm to defend my sister. I'm just saying…if there's ever a time in the Games when you have the chance to kill her, please show her mercy. Can you do _that_?"

It's extremely unlikely that Maysilee and I would be in the final two. I nod my head yes, and Moira smiles despite the tears welling in her eyes. Despite the fact that I barely know her, she pulls me into a hug.

"Thank you, Haymitch."

* * *

><p><strong>District 1<strong>

**Male: Cash Lenoir – 13 **

**Female: Shine Silver – 14 **

**Male: Neon Brunswick – 18 **

**Female: Velvet Ashden – 16**

* * *

><p><strong>District 2<strong>

**Male: Zeke Seville – 17 **

**Female: Sorrell Barber – 15 **

**Male: Coyote Zin – 14 **

**Female: Radar Draconian – 15**

* * *

><p><strong>District 3<strong>

**Male: Blaze Leopold – 16 **

**Female: Marli Larsen – 14 **

**Male: Levi Lerner – 15 **

**Female: Cessa Tryst – 12**

* * *

><p><strong>District 4<strong>

**Male: Rome Kennedy – 14**

**Female: Jaffa Frane – 12 **

**Male: Drake Forrester – 16**

**Female: Stave Simm – 13**

* * *

><p><strong>District 5<strong>

**Male: Ileum Lazard – 18 **

**Female: Obsidian "Sid" Nielson – 17 **

**Male: Jude Royse – 16 **

**Female: Flame DiAngelis – 12**

* * *

><p><strong>District 6<strong>

**Male: Thorn Lynmus – 16 **

**Female: Indigo "Indi" Chassell – 17 **

**Male: Cyprus Hiscotch – 15 **

**Female: Cella Hiscotch – 17**

* * *

><p><strong>District 7<strong>

**Male: Rid Marshall – 14 **

**Female: Brandy Fallax – 18 **

**Male: Tuliers Flint – 18 **

**Female: Sinead Reever – 12**

* * *

><p><strong>District 8<strong>

**Male: Beaudean Huckley – 13 **

**Female: Tobi Nightingale – 13 **

**Male: Medallion "Medal" Cain – 15 **

**Female: Juliet "Jules" Titian – 16**

* * *

><p><strong>District 9<strong>

**Male: Rook Darkholme – 14 **

**Female: Destiny Martinez – 15 **

**Male: Balthazar Helix – 18 **

**Female: Faith Veritas – 17**

* * *

><p><strong>District 10<strong>

**Male: Ember Dall-Domion – 14 **

**Female: Serralyn Ryes - 16 **

**Male: Merrick Frost – 18 **

**Female: Tasha Bux – 12**

* * *

><p><strong>District 11<strong>

**Male: Ruall O'Malley – 13 **

**Female: Fleur Dubretski – 15 **

**Male: Gryphon Lazar – 17 **

**Female: Muse Phlinx – 15**

* * *

><p><strong>District 12<strong>

**Male: Haymitch Abernathy – 16**

**Female: Maysilee Donner – 15**

**Male: Torian Charlton – 17 **

**Female: Pandora Twist – 13 **


	2. The Long Road

**Chapter Two: The Long Road**

I can't stand the rocking of the train. It's a long way to the Capitol and I'm expected to 'get to know' my fellow tributes. The only one I can really stand is Maysilee. She and I talk, but try and avoid the other two. Torian is an arrogant prick and Pandora is just quiet. I figured that out even before we hopped onto the train and said goodbye to District 12 for the last time.

Cairo and Libya usher us into a plush little lounge with a velvet couch and a television. My nose wrinkles in disgust. How come this sort of luxury can be bestowed upon a _train,_ while in District 12, people are starving? I fold my arms and indicate that I'm not impressed as I squish in between Pandora and Maysilee.

"Now." Cairo glares at us and then jabs a thumb pointedly at the television screen. "I want you all to watch the reapings very carefully. You might want to note what you're up against."

I already know what I'm up against. Forty-seven other tributes. There's not a chance in hell I'm coming back and I swallow, trying to fight down the sea of panic that threatens to consume me. Cairo tilts his head as he glances at me, perhaps sensing my distress, before he presses the play button.

Maysilee leans forward with a small, thoughtful frown. I start to note the opposition, four from each district.

From District 1, a girl my age with sparkly-bright eyes and a boy with a permanent scowl, accompanied by a pair of younger kids.

From District 2, a vicious-looking boy, two smirking girls and a younger boy with a rat face.

From District 3, two young girls, a very thin boy of fifteen, and a boy about my age that looks okay.

From District 4, they're all young apart from a boy my age who looks like he finds the whole thing amusing.

From District 5, a group all in their late teens with the exception of a twelve-year-old girl.

From District 6, a group in their mid teens, including a brother and sister with curly dark hair.

From District 7, two young ones and two who are older than me.

From District 8, a tough-looking redhead about my age, a boy a little younger, and two thirteen-year-olds.

From District 9, a girl with corkscrew blonde curls of seventeen, accompanied by an older boy and a younger boy and girl.

From District 10, a very pretty girl about my age, a cranky-looking older boy, and two terrified younger ones.

From District 11, a pair of fifteen-year-old girls and a thirteen-year-old boy, along with a boy who's older than me.

Then there's us. District 12. I watch again as we all make our way up, but although there have been some joking comments about the other tributes, we're all silent as we watch ourselves being reaped. Finally, mercifully, Cairo turns off the television.

"Well?" he demands of us.

Torian shakes his head fervently, his eyes flashing as he jabs a finger at the screen accusingly.

"Twelve Careers. _Twelve _of them. We don't stand a bloody chance."

It's like Torian has given voice to my thoughts. I'm completely in agreement with him. Maysilee is nodding and Pandora just sits there looking terrified. Cairo just calmly inspects Torian, who is seething at the injustice of it all. What the chance the Careers are going to win? Probably pretty high. I'd put my money on them.

"You're right," Cairo concurs with a slow nod, "That's a quarter of the tributes. So what are you doing to do about that, Torian?"

The blond boy opens his mouth to utter some sarcastic retort, only nothing comes out. He snaps his mouth closed again and his eyebrows contort into a V as he thinks hard. I hope he doesn't hurt himself in the process.

"Kill them."

It's such a stupid response that I have to try not to laugh and by Maysilee's sudden hacking cough, I'm guessing I'm not the only one who's amused. Even Pandora has a small smile across her lips. Torian must think he sounds so heroic – one of him up against all twelve of the Careers. He'd be dead in seconds.

"Stupid boy!" thunders Cairo, prompting Torian to sit down and glare at his feet, while our mentor stares at the rest of us, "Well? Have the rest of you got anything useful to add?"

It's Maysilee who finally pipes up. "We need to form an alliance. A strong one, with lots of other tributes – at least until the number of Careers goes down a bit."

Cairo looks a little taken aback, as if he didn't really expect anyone to answer his question. Maysilee lifts her chin, daring him to tell her that she's wrong. Torian is staring across at her in abject shock and Pandora has a hand pressed over her mouth.

"Good." Cairo nods in approval. "Clever girl. Your fellow tributes could probably use your intelligence."

He looks pointedly at Torian, who doesn't look too pleased at being referred to as an idiot.

"Whatever," he spits.

I miss Emaleigh. I wish I could go back to her, just hold her, kiss her one last time…only it's too late for that now. It's too late for all of us.

* * *

><p>At dinner, I'm seated across from Torian. This is just <em>fantastic<em>. The blond idiot is glaring at me like it's my fault that Maysilee came up with a solution and not him. Or maybe he views me as a rival. Stupid fool. He's meant to be gaining allies, not enemies.

"We'll be at the Capitol tomorrow," Libya announces, with a small smile as if that's supposed to be a good thing, "There will be cameras everywhere, so make sure you're all clean and wonderful by the morning."

"Whatever," mutters Torian. That single word seems to be his catchphrase.

"Well at least you lot aren't a _total_ loss," Cairo drawls as he shoves a forkful of potato into his mouth, glancing at Maysilee, "Who knows. Some of you might even survive the bloodbath this year…"

I'm standing up before I know what I'm doing, my chair scraping back and my hands clenching into fists. Pandora is gaping up at me. A small smirk tugs at the corners of Torian's lips as he watches me. I'm burning with anger at how laid back Cairo is about this whole thing.

"Why do you think this is a game?" I snarl at him, unable to control my rage, "We're going to die out there. This must be funny to you, but it's not to us."

Cairo considers me with his blue eyes sparkling. It's as if my anger has warmed me to him and I sit down, my glower still focused upon him.

"That's quite a temper you have there, Haymitch. Tell me – and I think I already know the answer to this question – have any of you seen the 25th Hunger Games?"

We all shake our heads. It was long before our time. Even Cairo wouldn't have been that old, hard as that is to believe.

"It was the First Quarter Quell – and it was brutal. You think the Hunger Games are bad? When you're reaped for a Quarter Quell, there's only one thing you can do. These…Games. They're different. The First Quarter Quell had it all – torture, suicide, blood, gore, attempted rape…the whole lot. As for the Second? It's only going to be worse."

Pandora's breathing heavily, trying to choke back the fear that shines out through her eyes. I don't know anything about the 25th Hunger Games, but it sounds absolutely terrible. To think we might be facing something even worse…

"You said there's only one thing we can do," Maysilee's voice is quiet, but everyone is listening as she leans forward to frown at Cairo, "What's that?"

Cairo licks his lips. "If you want to get out alive…run for your life."

* * *

><p>"Run for your life," Torian scoffs once dinner is over and we're heading for our assigned rooms, "What kind of advice is that? What if the other tributes run faster? Some mentor we've got."<p>

I grit my teeth and I have to try very, very hard not to hit him. The girls have already headed into their compartment and the thought of sharing a room with Torian is not one that appeals to me whatsoever.

"Better advice than your 'kill them'," I respond dryly.

Torian stops suddenly, a nasty look coming over his face. I'm suddenly aware that he's at least a good three inches taller than I am and probably more muscular as well. He folds his arms across his chest.

"Are you mocking me, Haymitch?"

"No." I hold up my hands defensively. "Not at all. I'm just saying that anyone who came to you for advice would be pretty much screwed."

Torian's face twists with fury and he lunges, grabbing me by the front of my shirt and pinning me against the wall. His snarling face is in mine and for some reason, I can't help but laugh at how angry he is.

"You think this is funny?" he hisses at me, "Why you little…I'll give you something to laugh at…"

"Is there a problem here, boys?"

Torian releases me immediately and takes a step back. Cairo is standing there with his hands tucked casually into his pockets. Despite the impassive expression on his face, I can see that his blue eyes are cold as he looks at Torian.

"No," Torian replies quickly. "I was just leaving."

He turns on his heel and marches off before Cairo can stop him. I try and look unperturbed by Torian's sudden violence, but in reality I'm wondering what sort of ally he's going to be really – probably the sort that would stab me in the back in the middle of the night.

"Watch out for that one," Cairo warns, jerking his chin towards where the door to our room has just slammed shut, "He might not be the brightest, but I'd say he's prone to violence. I wouldn't put my life in his hands."

* * *

><p>I have to hold back a yowl as my leg hair is ripped off in one quick movement. My prep team lingers around me, chattering about trivial matters such as parties and people I've never heard of. There's Sepia, who reminds me of a bird of prey with her red-and-blue hair and hooked nose. She's the one who's tearing so insistently at my leg hair.<p>

"Lucky this one's not a whiner," chuckles Juniper, who's in her mid-twenties with candy-pink hair and a glittering nose ring, "Last year's would _not _shut up."

I'm pissed off now. I remember last year's male tribute, Judah Kilkino. He was killed in the bloodbath. I'm very tempted to kick Juniper, but I've already made an enemy of Torian, so it's not as though I really need another.

The last member of the prep team is a quiet man. I think his name is Tywin. He simply inspects me in silence. I don't think I've ever felt so exposed in my life. I screw my eyes shut and convince myself to take this, for Em back home. She'd want me to be strong, not some whiny little kid squealing about having his leg hair tugged.

My eyebrows have been plucked and I don't think there's any hair left on my body save for on my head. My skin is red-raw and I feel like a newborn child, vulnerable and delicate. I hate the feeling.

My stylist is apparently called Umbriella. This is the strangest name I've heard so far and when Sepia told me this, I had to bite down on my tongue to stop myself from laughing. I don't really see the point in getting all made up when all I'm going to be doing in the arena is getting filthy and dying.

"Did you go to Hail's last week?" Juniper asks of Sepia, "My God, it was such a bore. The DJ was a total waste of space and the food wasn't even that good! I bought a new dress and everything."

"What a waste of money," Sepia sympathizes.

I feel sick. How can they have so much money in the Capitol, money to spend on dresses and parties and DJs, but in District 12 people are dying of starvation? It's not right, not in the least…but I can't complain. It's not like anyone would listen. I'm just a sixteen-year-old kid who's going to die in the 50th Hunger Games.

I wonder how the others from 12 are going. I can just imagine Torian screeching his head off and this image makes a smirk cross my lips as the prep team scuttle from the room to alert Umbriella that I'm ready.

Everything here is so clean. It reminds me a little of a surgery and that sends a shiver down my spine as the door opens and in walks a woman with long purple hair and unnaturally green eyes. She's perhaps in her early fifties and she examines me with her lips pursed and nostrils flaring.

"Hmm. You're a pretty one, aren't you?"

I feel a little insulted. I'm a boy. I'm not supposed to be 'pretty'. Umbriella's eyes miss nothing and she takes in every detail – my tanned skin, my grey eyes and my dark hair. I can't help but feel a little violated, standing there naked with this woman's sharp stare.

"I've been a stylist for twenty-five years now," she tells me, "All of them with District 12. Not that I mind – I find the tributes from your district to be quite an interesting bunch. Not like those puffed-up fools from 1."

I venture a small smile and notice that Umbriella is smiling too. Okay, so maybe she's not just a crabby lady.

"I have the perfect idea for your chariot outfit, young man…"

* * *

><p>I fold my arms across my chest, very unimpressed. Apparently, all the stylists were cooperating – and the result is four ridiculous costumes. I stand waiting for the others, inspecting my tight leather pants and matching sleeveless vest. That's not to mention the bulky black boots or the headlamp that I'm wearing. I look like a <em>moron.<em>

"Hey, Haymitch."

It's Maysilee – and I have to try not to stare. She looks just as unhappy as I feel, wearing a black leather skirt, a low-cut vest that shows off the top of her breasts, and the same bulky boots and headlamp that I'm wearing. Her eyes are coated with eyeliner and mascara. She actually looks stunning – no, _bad_ Haymitch. I'm not supposed to think that. Not with Emaleigh back home.

"You look nice."

Maysilee pulls a face. "Yeah, right. I look like a slut."

Torian comes up to us with an approving smirk on his face as he inspects Maysilee. His vest shows off his muscular arms. Damn, the girls are all going to vote for _him_ now.

"I like 'slut'," Torian says with a sleazy wink.

Maysilee frowns. "Piss off, Torian."

Pandora comes after him, the tight-clinging black vest emphasizing her lack of curves. She folds her arms across her chest self-consciously and watches the rest of us with a miserable look on her face.

"How are we all going to fit onto one chariot?" she asks, speaking aloud for probably the first time.

Maysilee shrugs, but our question is answered when a rather wide chariot drawn by black horses stops in front of us. Umbriella and the other stylists immediately crowd around, fussing over us and making sure that we all look _fantastic._

We all step up onto the chariot, the stylists nudging Pandora and Maysilee to the front and centre while Torian and I are shunted back and to the sides. Not that I mind this – I'm going to be the laughing stock of District 12 no matter where I stand.

We're the last chariot out, so we have the audience's full attention. Torian, of course, is his normal arrogant self, smiling lazily and waving to the crowd. It's young Pandora who surprises me, grinning hugely and blowing kisses. The only person as unimpressed as me is Maysilee, who has forced a saccharine smile across her lips while her eyes remain cold as ice.


	3. Survival of the Fittest

**Chapter Three: Survival of the Fittest**

I'm sitting in the garden with the cool breeze making the wind chimes tinkle. I'm lying back on the grass with my eyes closed, because when I do, I can almost believe that I'm back home in District 12. I can almost pretend that Emaleigh is leaning over me with a beautiful smile on her face, leaning forward to kiss my lips…

A sudden rustling makes me snap my eyes open and my stomach lurches with disappointment because despite everything, everything I could hope for, it's the bright lights of the Capitol that I'm confronted with. These people are so shallow and all they care about is their everyday lives. What do they care if twenty-three teenagers die in the arena every year, if it's for their entertainment?

"Haymitch?"

It's Maysilee. Her soft blonde hair is flowing in the breeze and she stares down at me, astonished. Clearly, she thought she was alone up here…just like I did. I roll my head around on my neck and sit up, patting the spot of grass beside me in an invitation for her to sit down.

Dinner was okay. Apart from Torian being a jerk the whole time, that is. The food here in the Capitol is better than I could ever have imagined, only we're going to be going from one extreme to the other – too much food in the Capitol, not enough in the arena. Boy, that's going to be fun.

Maysilee takes a deep breath and sits down beside me, curling her legs up to her chest and resting her chin on her knees as she takes in the sight of the Capitol. It's like lots of brilliantly shining stars out there, a whole sea of them. I've never seen the sea…and now I'm never going to.

"We're never going to see home again." Maysilee sounds as melancholy as I feel. "Moira…Lila…my parents…I'm never going to see them again. But they're going to see _me_. They're going to watch me die. They have to."

"Hey." I place a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her, remembering my promise to Moira. I said I would spare Maysilee's life if we weren't down to just the two of us. "We're in this together, okay? We'll look out for each other, you and me."

Maysilee frowns. "What about Torian and Pandora?"

I snort. "The Careers can have Torian for all I care. As for Pandora? Okay, look, I'm not going to kid you. I don't think she'll survive the bloodbath."

Maysilee's blue eyes are wide with accusation, as if I've said I'm going to kill them both myself. The thing is, out here on the roof with the wind blowing so loud, I feel like I can actually say what's been bottled up inside me for so long. Maysilee doesn't understand why I'm talking like this.

"But we're supposed to look out for each other…" Maysilee sounds uncertain.

I shake my head fervently. "Don't be a fool, Maysilee. That's going to get you killed. When you're at the bloodbath, you stay the hell away from the others and you run, like Cairo said. Haven't you been watching the past few Games? Normally, the ones that run are the ones that make it."

Maysilee blinks rapidly as if she's trying to hold back tears. I'm speaking fast and my words are wild. She doesn't want to abandon Pandora and Torian, but she also wants to survive. We all do.

"What…what are you saying? You know we couldn't survive. There's no chance. Cairo's the only ever victor from our district and that was the 10th Hunger Games, Haymitch. Face it: we _don't stand a chance_ against the Careers!"

I shrug, knowing that I don't have anything left I can say. What Maysilee says is true and it shatters my dreams. I want to win. It's human nature to want to live. Only, what chance do I stand when there are kids out there who have been trained for this since they could walk?

* * *

><p>Maysilee and I have become unspoken allies. When we start training with the other tributes the next day, she nudges me and we get started on making traps. Pandora and Torian have wandered away to their own separate locations. I'm only half concentrated on what I'm doing, because in reality, I'm sizing up the Careers.<p>

They range in age from twelve to eighteen. I'm surprised at the presence at the younger ones, but even the twelve-year-old girl from 4 looks twice as strong as Pandora. They're immediately over at the weapons station. Maysilee follows the direction of my glance and sighs heavily.

"They're a tough-looking lot, aren't they? I found out some of their names. That's Velvet Ashden…" The older girl from 1, who's about my age, hefting an axe that's nearly twice her size. "Zeke Seville…" The older boy from 2, who spears one of the dummies with a vicious smile. "Drake Forrester…" One of the boys from 4, the amused one.

I gulp. "Please stop that. I find it better thinking them inhuman brutes rather than knowing their names, thanks."

Maysilee nods understandingly and we get to our feet as it's time for lunch. This is a rather raucous event, with all twelve Careers tending to gather around the food cart, laughing and chatting loudly while the other tributes try to tiptoe past them to get their lunch. My eyes narrow in distaste and I watch Maysilee hesitate.

"Come on."

She follows me uncertainly as I make my way towards the food cart, nudging past the rat-faced boy from District 2, who's only around fourteen. He scowls at this and pushes me right back.

"What do you think you're doing, District 12?" he sneers, "Watch your step!"

"Just lay off, Coyote," drawls the auburn-haired District 2 girl, staring contemptuously at Maysilee and I, "He's not worth the effort. Wait until the arena."

"Fine, Radar," Coyote mumbles sulkily, turning away so that Maysilee and I can get our food.

The routine continues in a similar manner. The next day, Maysilee and I venture over to the weapons. Several of them we're able to use, but some of the heavier ones such as swords and axes we leave well enough alone. We leave Pandora and Torian to their own devices. I feel sorry for young Pandora, left alone and confused, but she makes no move to join the alliance Maysilee and I have formed.

Torian, on the other hand, hasn't done too badly for a moron. He tells us rather triumphantly about the allies he's made. Levi Lerner, the thin fifteen-year-old from 3. Flame DiAngelis, the twelve-year-old from 5. Rid Marshall, the fourteen-year-old from 7. Destiny Martinez, the fifteen-year-old from 9. I shouldn't judge the tributes based on their ages, but they all seem young – especially Flame. I can't say anything, though. My only ally is Maysilee.

* * *

><p>Today, the Gamemakers are calling us up one by one to see what we've got to offer. I'm feeling sick to the stomach, especially when I hear the Careers talking loudly about their own talents. I can barely touch my food and Maysilee hovers over me, a concerned expression on her face.<p>

"Haymitch? Are you okay?"

"Leave me alone," I snap in reply, then I feel bad as hurt flashes across Maysilee's face and she sits down in silence. None of this is Maysilee's fault. I just want to go home to Emaleigh, and my family, because I know I don't stand a chance. We're being pitted against kids who have been trained to fight since they could walk. How is that a fair chance? Now I'm beginning to realize that Maysilee is right – we can't win these Games.

The older boy from 1 is called first, the one with the permanent scowl. He sticks his hands in his pockets and mooches out of the room to meet the Gamemakers. The other Careers wish him luck, and I note with some amusement that all of the tributes from 1 are fair-haired. The older girl – Velvet, I think her name is – catches me looking and I turn away.

Slowly, little by little, the room empties. After some time, it's just us – that is, District 12 – sitting there. Pandora and Torian join Maysilee and I after the fiery-haired girl from 11 is called out.

"What do you think?" Pandora asks quietly, leaning forward, her dark eyes full of despair, "Can we really stand up against them?"

We all know she means the Careers. Maysilee opens her mouth to answer, but before she can speak, Torian is called from the room. He rolls his head around on his neck and cracks his knuckles. As he leaves, I don't miss the fact that Pandora is the only one who wishes him luck.

"Break a leg," I mutter under my breath, "Save me doing it for you."

"We just have to keep cool," Maysilee replies to Pandora's question, her blue eyes wide because she knows that she will be called next, "Use our strengths and cover each others' weaknesses. Work as a team."

I know that her words are empty. District 12 is by no means a united front. Torian has formed an alliance with kids from other districts and Pandora is all on her own. She examines her fingernails.

"Can…can I…would it be okay if I joined the alliance you two have?"

Maysilee looks meaningfully at me and I nod imperceptibly. We don't really know Pandora's talents. She might be spectacular for all we know. Maysilee grins and plants a comforting hand on Pandora's shoulder.

"Sure you can."

Pandora smiles and then Maysilee is called out of the room. The silence that ensues is kind of awkward, as Pandora and I don't really talk much. She hesitates, before sidling closer to me, staring at me with wide eyes.

"You think we can win?"

I know what Maysilee would say if she were here. She would be brutally honest. But I can see the hope flaring in her eyes and I can't bring myself to kill it.

"Well…maybe."

* * *

><p>"Ssh, shut up!" Maysilee hisses at the rest of us as we sit down on the couch after dinner to see what scores we all got from the Gamemakers. Torian seems to be considering taking up most of the space, but when he sees the scary look on Maysilee's face, he quickly relocates to the floor.<p>

Cairo is watching with his arms folded and I swallow hard. I don't want to disappoint anyone, but my performance was abysmal. I went in there and roundhouse kicked a few dummies, slash the throats of a few with a dagger…but pretty much? I was average at best. Now I'm curious to see what my fellow District 12 tributes got.

Of course, the Careers are no surprise. All of them get within the 8 to 10 range, as is expected of them. The lot from 3 range from 6 to 9, while most of the other tributes get anything from 4 to 10. Then District 11 is done and I find myself holding my breath.

Torian is the first up, and – holy shit. It's an 11. I whip around to see Torian looking very pleased with himself. I just want to punch that stupid smirk right off his face. I'm irrationally jealous of him. Why does he get an 11? What could that dumbass possibly have done to earn an 11?

Maysilee is next. She got herself an 8, which isn't bad. I actually tense…and find myself facing a 6. My shoulders slump with disappointment as Pandora heaves a sigh about her 7. Out of our district, I got the lowest.

"Nicely done, Haymitch." Torian claps sarcastically. "6 out of 12? That's quite an accomplishment."

"Why, you…"

I launch myself off the couch at him, fists flying. Torian throws up his arms to defend himself and then Cairo is hurrying across the room, wrenching me off Torian and shoving me roughly aside.

"That's enough!" he barks, glowering at the pair of us, "You boys are both in the same district. There's no need to fight amongst yourselves."

"Yes there is," Torian snarls in reply, startling Cairo, "We're not in the same alliance. There's those three, and then there's me. Let's see who wins, shall we?"

"Stop it," Pandora pleads, unable to stand the terrible words Torian is saying and the fact that we're all fighting, "Please just stop it…"

"Why?" Torian sneers at her. "You know that you're not going to survive the bloodbath…"

There's a loud cracking sound and Torian's head whips back. It takes me a moment to register that Maysilee has slapped him across the face. His eyes are wide as he turns back to face her, and Maysilee looks shocked like she doesn't know what she's done. I tense, prepared to back Maysilee up if Torian tries to hit her back. But he doesn't.

"I think," Cairo says very quietly, dangerously so, "That you should all go to bed. The interviews are tomorrow and I need you all on your best behaviour. Torian, that's the price you pay for stupidity. That's going to bruise."

Torian shoots Cairo a mutinous glare, but he says nothing at all.

* * *

><p>I tug at my suit, feeling really stupid. My hair is gelled back and I don't feel like Haymitch Abernathy anymore. I feel like a formal idiot has taken my place. I wonder if Em and the others will even recognize me on television. My only consolation is that Torian looks worse than I do – not only does he have the suit, but a ripe purple bruise on his cheek. I can't help but snicker.<p>

Maysilee looks really nice. Her hair has been curled and the eyeliner brings out the blue of her eyes. Her dress is long and a little shiny and she smiles a little self-consciously as we head out to join the others. Pandora's looking good as well, a bit happier than yesterday, with a deep wine-red dress.

Cairo's spent all last night and this morning thinking up interview angles for us. Torian is not hard – with his 11, he's all brawn and no brains. Or as he likes to think of it, the 'tough guy' approach. Maysilee was incredibly pissed off when Cairo insisted that she go for 'sexy', but after a huge argument ensued, they reached a compromise and she instead goes for 'witty'. Pandora, of course, plays the cute card.

Then there's me. It took Cairo long enough to come up with something for me. When I cracked the joke about Torian being all brawn and no brains, Cairo seemed to have a brainwave and then decided that I'm going to be 'funny'. Great. So I'm basically going as a clown.

The Careers are already clustered in their little group. The rat-faced boy from 2 – aptly named Coyote, if I remember correctly – turns and jerks his head towards me, a mean little grin crossing his face. The amused-looking boy from 4 throws back his head and laughs. My stomach twists, because I know that this can't be good.

Caesar Flickerman, the man who hosts the interviews, looks the same as he has for the past fifteen years. It's kind of scary. My musing about being seen as a clown surfaces once more as I see Caesar's bright orange hair.

I watch the other tributes. The interviews go for three minutes exactly, with a buzzer sounding when time is up. The older girl from District 1 goes first, flipping back her white-blonde hair. The eyes of practically all the boys and men are glued to her and I know that her mentor chose 'sexy' for her angle.

It seems to take forever this year, probably because there's double the number of tributes. I'm beginning to get impatient and it feels like a lifetime before Maysilee is finally called down to sit across from Caesar.

"So, who do you miss the most from home, Maysilee?"

Maysilee gnaws at her lip. "Probably my twin sister, Moira. And my best friend Lila."

The questions continue, rather private and invasive ones about Maysilee's home life. Does she have a boyfriend? What does she think of her training score? Does she think she stands a chance in the arena? I'm almost relieved when it's over and it's Torian's turn, because I don't know it was for Maysilee, but for me that seemed painful.

"First thing's first, Torian…where did you get that wonderful bruise from?"

Torian laughs easily. "A fellow tribute."

This doesn't look like the tough guy act to me. It looks like Torian is trying to play the smooth, easy-going guy. I frown in consideration, trying to figure out what he's playing at. I swear I will never understand this idiot.

"I see…so tell us, how are you finding it with double the amount of tributes?"

Torian winks knowingly. "Well…double the amount of chances to prove myself. Personally, I'm not fazed by it."

_Liar_, I think to myself, and by Maysilee's narrowed eyes, she's thinking along the same lines. Torian is very relaxed throughout the interview, unlike Maysilee. There's almost a smirk across his face, despite the bruise that mars his cheek. I'm boiling with rage, but I can't understand why.

Pandora is next. She's already nervous and she stammers the whole way through the interview. Two of the Career girls are laughing and it makes me mad. Is this what entertains them up in Districts 1, 2 and 4? Mocking other tributes? By the time I'm called up, my nails are already digging tiny red crescents into the palms of my hands.

"Hello, Haymitch." Caesar sounds friendly enough, and I try and relax into the angle of the funny guy I'm supposed to be playing. "How are you finding things in the Capitol."

"Well, the food's better for starters," I joke feebly, earning scattered laughs amongst the crowd. "No, but really. It's a very colourful place. Very different from District 12."

Caesar nods. "So, how do you feel about your training score, Haymitch? Do think it reflects your potential?"

I have to think hard. Do I want to say yes, and let everyone think I'm a loser, or say no and end up looking arrogant? I shrug my shoulders.

"Not sure. I guess we'll have to wait and see in the arena."

Caesar leans forward confidentially. "So, is there a lovely lady back home? Or are you a single man?"

I don't even miss a beat. "My girlfriend, Emaleigh. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

There are sympathetic noises from the crowd. If there's one thing I know, it's that they're suckers for romance. I always wondered what it would be like to try the whole 'star-crossed lovers' thing. The first Quarter Quell was an interesting one for star-crossed lovers. There were quite a few of them back then.

"So, if there was one thing you could say to Emaleigh right now, what would it be?" Caesar asks.

I blurt out the words before I even think.

"That I'll be coming home."


	4. Let It Begin

**Chapter Four: Let It Begin**

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><p><strong>AN: Let me know what you think of this chapter. Originally I had it in the POVs of a few different tributes, but then I thought…wait, this is HAYMITCH'S story, no one else's. So I made some changes and voila. Please review, it's very much appreciated. Sorry this chapter is a little short – I just wanted to get something out there.**

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><p>The wind chimes are tinkling as Maysilee marches towards me with an angry look on her face. I don't know what her problem is, but I really don't want to deal with it, not now. The Games are tomorrow and no matter what happens, I can't get that thought out of my head.<p>

"What were you thinking?" Maysilee demands, her blue eyes flashing with rage, "Now you're going to get us killed!"

Oh. I know what she's talking about now. The last question in my interview. Caesar asked me: "So, Haymitch, what do you think of the Games having 100% more competitors than usual?" I just shrugged and replied: "I don't see that it makes much difference. They'll still be 100% stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same."

Now I get it. It wasn't exactly clear if I was referring to the Games or the tributes as stupid. Even I don't know the answer to that one. It was only meant to be a quip, meant to make people laugh – and it did. But I don't think the Gamemakers were the ones laughing.

"You are so selfish!" Maysilee bursts out, her hands clenched into fists. Boy, I wonder if Torian knows we're fighting. That would just make his day. "The Capitol is going to make sure we die in the arena now!"

"Calm down," I insist over the sound of wind chimes, lying back down on the grass. "You're just stressed about tomorrow. I was talking about the tributes, not the Games. You really think I'd do something that dumb?"

Maysilee's eyes blaze and I think she's going to shout at me again, but then she sits down heavily, picking at the blades of the grass and tearing them up in her hands. After a few moments in which we can't hear anything but the wind chimes and the sounds of the Capitol, she looks up.

"Haymitch?"

I glance across at her.

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to die." Maysilee's voice cracks and I see the tears welling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. I want to comfort her, yet I think of Em back home. What would she think of me hugging another girl? Somehow, in this situation, I actually think she'd want me to comfort Maysilee. So even though it's awkward, I put my arm around Maysilee's shoulders and pat her on the back.

"You really think the rest of us do?" I ask, then realize now's not the time for sarcasm. "Sorry. I guess it's getting to all of us. Out of 48, only one of us is going to survive."

Maysilee laughs mirthlessly and wipes at her tears. "Well, it's not going to be me."

I flinch at her words. She's probably right – it'll probably end up being a Career, as usual – but I don't like hearing the words that pierce me like a knife. It's because they're true. None of us want to die, but this year, the odds are definitely not in our favour.

"Don't say that. You can't just give up already, Maysilee. You've got to keep fighting. It's not about living anymore. It's just about surviving…and maybe we can do it. Not until the end, I'm not saying one of us will win…but even surviving the bloodbath would be a start."

* * *

><p>I pace around the Launch Room, agitated. I've been marked with a tracker so that the Gamemakers know where I am at all times – yeah, because I'm totally going to escape the arena. Now I stand here the black pants, shirt and boots I've been issued with. The only thing to identify my district is a band around my arm that is marked '12'.<p>

"When the gong sounds, you run for it." Cairo is giving me last-minute instructions. "You're not up for the bloodbath, you understand me? It's going to be one hell of a fight this year and if you want to live, it's best that you're not a part of it."

I nod an affirmative. I feel like I'm about to throw up. I've never been more scared in my life. It feels a bit like before you start a running race, and when someone shoots "GO!" your stomach lurches horribly. Only this is about a thousand times worse. Because when the gong sounds, it's the beginning of the end.

It's time for the launch. Cairo claps me on the back and bids me farewell, his mouth pressed into a firm line of displeasure. He thinks I'm going to die. _I _think I'm going to die. Pretty sure everyone thinks I'm going to die in the bloodbath. I step onto the circular plate and I'm completely tense as I whiz upwards, and when the glass cylinder lowers…wow.

The arena is absolutely amazing this year. It's the most breathtaking place imaginable. I never thought death would look so beautiful. The Cornucopia is built like a golden pyramid, completely stacked with supplies. We're situated in the middle of a sweet-smelling green meadow, and when I look up, the sky is a bright blue, with only a scattering of fluffy white clouds.

In one direction, in the far distance, there is what I assume to be the woods. When I turn and look in the other direction, I can see a snow-capped mountain. It's a complete deception, I know that…yet how is it fair that 47 kids are going to die in an arena that seems so…pure?

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the 50th Hunger Games begin!"

Sixty seconds, that's how long I've got to figure out a strategy. I try and look around for others, but I can't even see Maysilee. Beside me are two tributes I don't even recognize. When the gong sounds, I leap off the circular plate and sprint. If I want to get out alive, as Cairo told me, I have to run for my life.

A piercing scream resonates around the arena. I've whirled around before I can stop myself – just in time to see the first death of the Games…and it shakes me to the core. One of the girls from 4 – the thirteen-year-old – has moved with incredible speed, and used her newfound knife to cut Pandora's throat.

I feel incredibly sad as Pandora starts to choke, spitting up her own blood, but there's nothing I can do for her. I'm motionless with pure horror. It's the first death and it just has to be the young girl from my district who asked me if she could be my ally. I don't want to see anymore…but as the girl from 4 steps away from Pandora's twitching body, I can't help it. I head towards the girl from District 12.

Pandora's face is spattered with her own blood, but no one is there to be with her as she dies. No one but me. Most of the others are fighting it out at the Cornucopia. I watch as the younger boy from 9 pushes the twelve-year-old girl from 7, so that she falls from the top storey and hits the ground with a sickening crunch. I'm forced to look away. No more. It's only the beginning, but I'm already sick of death.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to Pandora as she stiffens and her eyes glaze over. I reach down and gulp as I close her eyes. She didn't deserve this. It should have been Torian to die in the bloodbath. Not Pandora.

This is the knife that the Capitol twists in our hearts, the sharp knife of a short life. What must Pandora's family be feeling right now? They've watched their thirteen-year-old daughter die. How is this fair of any of us? I swallow hard, feeling an unspeakable hatred towards the Capitol.

Then I see the dagger clutched in Pandora's hand. She managed to get a weapon. I hesitate, but then realize that Pandora has no need for a dagger. She's dead and I still need to survive. If I don't learn to become ruthless, I won't live. I pry the dagger from her hands – which are still warm – and stow it in my pocket.

By the time I've clambered to my feet, dead bodies are scattered around the Cornucopia. Torian isn't one of them. Neither is Maysilee. The boy from 9 – the one who killed the young girl – is attempting to run away from the Cornucopia. He is pursued by the vicious-looking boy from 2, who suddenly stops and hefts his spear above his head, throwing it at the boy from 9.

I turn away and start to walk away as there is the sickening thump of the spear piercing through the boy. I can hear his screams as I walk away, along with the screams of all the others who are fighting and killing and dying at the Cornucopia. I know their screams are going to haunt me until the day I die…however soon that might be.

* * *

><p>I've actually found out that I'm okay with being by myself. I fold my arms to conserve warmth, and there's nothing I need to worry about with dozing off. The images of Pandora's horrific demise still plague me and I know that tonight, at least, I won't be sleeping. After all the faces flash across the sky, I'm slightly annoyed that Torian isn't dead. Why couldn't it have been Torian? I keep thinking that.<p>

It's cold, but not overly so. It's not like I'm stupid enough to light a fire in any case. The Careers are probably picking through this place right now looking for any tribute unfortunate enough to cross their path. They haven't found anyone so far, because there are no screams and no cannons.

I've got no idea what happened to Torian and Maysilee, but no doubt they've gone their own ways. Maysilee was supposed to be my ally – but it looks like that plan failed. Nice going, Cairo. Now all three of us have been separated…not that I'd make an ally of Torian. He'd stab me in the back during the night.

An owl hoots nearby and nearly makes me jump out of my skin. The area this year is beautiful – dangerously so. It makes me suspicious, and I know better than to trust it. That's why I haven't drunk any water yet, and I stay well away from the berries.

The bloodbath was completely brutal. I mean, it normally is…but this year, with more tributes, it was even worse. Eighteen cannons went off after the bloodbath – whoa, eighteen tributes dead already…but there are still thirty more. It's a prospect that continues to scare me. The anthem starts to play and the Capitol seal lingers in the sky.

I lie back to stare up at the sky, giving the dead the solemn silence that they deserve. There are going to be a lot of face up there tonight.

First there's the younger girl from District 1, followed by the rat-faced boy from 2. Both are Careers, so I don't really regret that either are dead. Both girls from three are dead. They're so young. I feel a lurch of pity for them.

They're followed by the girls from 4 and both boys from 5. There's only one from 6 – it's the curly-haired girl, the one with a brother also in the games. The younger girl and the older boy from 8 are both dead, but in 9 it's the older girl and younger boy who are dead. There's only one from 9 – the youngest, a boy. It's the same story with 10, except the youngest is a girl.

By the time we get to the lower districts, I'm expecting massive losses. I'm bracing myself for the worst. After all, districts 11 and 12 are widely considered to be pathetic. Most tributes from my district die in the bloodbath. I'm a little surprised to find out that only two have died from 11 – the younger boy and one of the girls.

After District 11, my stomach clenches. I've been carefully counting, so I'm pretty sure that I know there's only one from District 12…and yeah, there she is. I see Pandora's face for the last time, before it's replaced by the Capitol seal.

My heart feels heavy in my chest. Day 1, and already I'm sick of the death. I watched so many horrible things today. I watched the young boy from District 9 push the twelve-year-old from 7 from the Cornucopia. I didn't see her fall, but I heard the sickening crunch as she hit the ground. I'm pretty sure that's the sort of thing I'm not going to be forgetting too soon.

How long can I expect to last? Hell, I'm not a killer. I was edgy about taking the dagger from Pandora's dead body. I want to be strong and ruthless…the only problem is, that's not me. Every time I look at the other tributes, it's like I can see their friends, their families…

Jeez. I have to stop thinking. Thinking's wise in some instances, but in a place like the arena, I'm sure that thinking would get me killed. Tomorrow, I'll try and find sources of food and water are more natural. Maybe I'll hunt something. I chuckle at the notion, and lean back against the tree, condemning myself to a sleepless night.


	5. One Person I'd Kill

**Chapter Five: One Person I'd Kill**

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><p><strong>AN: A huge thanks to everyone who reviewed! I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

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><p>My eyes flicker open and I immediately realize that despite my best intentions, I fell asleep. I'm immediately furious at myself as I stagger to my feet, the dagger from Pandora the only thing I have with me – not that it will do me much good. It's lucky that the Careers didn't happen upon me in the night, or else I'd be dead. <em>Nice going, Haymitch.<em>

I need to be more vigilant if I want to survive another night. That means no going to sleep unless I'm absolutely sure that I won't be found, and I'm guessing that leaning up against a tree is a pretty easy place to be found.

My throat's dry. Despite the fact that I don't trust this arena, I reckon I'm going to need to drink soon, or else I'll die. My back's sore and my neck is stiff. Hell, why am I complaining? It's not like I'm severely injured or dying. I have no right to be whinging about stiffness when yesterday, I watched Pandora have her throat slit open into a blood-red smile.

I clutch the dagger tight in my hand as I trek through the woods, so tight that my knuckles are white. It's a laughable weapon, really. What's going to happen if I encounter the eight remaining Careers? Somehow, I don't think any excuse I stammer is going to win their sympathies. We're all in this to survive.

The sky's such a bright blue and the birds flitter over my head. I could almost believe that I'm in a nice place, but being overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of the arena is not a good idea. It would be foolish to forget where I am and why I'm here. I can hear the sound of bubbling water, like a stream. The dryness in my throat becomes more prominent, and I begin to hurry my steps.

I just need water. It doesn't matter that I don't have anything to store it in. I need to quench my thirst, just for now. Only I slow down when I hear movement, and then low voices. Other tributes have reached the stream – and there's a large group of them, from the sound of things.

I clench my dagger and press myself against a tree, chancing a brief glance around at them, making sure the leaves conceal me from view. It's not the Careers, as I suspected. I frown as I try and remember who these tributes are. There's the thin boy from 3, the surviving boy from 7, and the younger girls from 5 and 9. But it's the last person who surprises me. It's Torian.

"I thought you managed to get a bottle," Torian argues, clearly the oldest of the group. He might even be the one in charge. Oh, how he'd love that.

"Sorr-ee." The girl from 9 folds her arms across her chest, looking annoyed. "I dropped it when the Careers came after us. Why didn't you get one yourself? Since when did you have the right to become so uppity, District 12?"

"Don't, Destiny," The boy from 3 pleads with her. Clearly, Torian and Destiny don't get along.

"Whatever, Levi," Destiny snaps, before she turns to glance at the others, "So has anyone _else_ got a water bottle for his highness?"

Torian's eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. I want to warn Destiny not to trust him. That look means trouble and it might even get her killed. Yet I remain silent in my hiding place, observing them. All I need to do is wait for them to leave the stream, and then I can drink. I just hope they don't take too long.

"Finally." The girl from 5, who can't be any older than twelve, kneels down and splashes her face with water from the stream. She cups some in her hands and takes a drink.

Torian and Destiny are arguing again. Apparently, none of the others have a bottle in which to store the water, and Torian isn't pleased by this fact. Destiny's getting right in his face about it, and I can see Torian reaching surreptitiously for a knife strapped to his side. I want to yell out, but if Torian kills Destiny, there's nothing I can do…only someone acts first.

Over by the stream, the girl from 5 has started to choke. She clasps her hands around her throat and her face is slowly starting to drain of colour. Destiny whirls away from Torian and runs to her with a cry.

"Flame!"

Destiny kneels down beside Flame, shaking her as she continues to choke. At first, I'm confused…but then I see Levi from 3 backing away from the stream, and I understand. The water is poisonous. I find myself growing weak at the knees. If Torian's alliance hadn't reached the stream first, then I would have made Flame's fatal mistake.

Torian watches the young girl die with a completely impassive expression on her face. Flame's face is chalk-white as her head drops back and her cannon goes off. Destiny silently sets her down and takes a step backwards.

"It's not safe to drink from the stream," Levi shakes his head fervently, and the boy from 7 looks horrified. "We're going to need to get rainwater or something. We can't trust any water in the arena."

"Are you kidding?" Destiny sounds shocked. "We're going to die of thirst if we wait for rain!"

Levi rattles off some probabilities about rain, which only makes Destiny even angrier. I wonder if all of them from 9 are so volatile. The two bicker until Levi has the final say.

"If we all listened to you, Destiny, we'd be dead."

Destiny's face contorts in anger and she punches him in the face. Torian grabs her by the arm and roughly pushes her away from Levi, before he glowers at the pair of them.

"Listen up. We obviously can't drink from the stream."

Well, no shit, Sherlock.

"So we're going to find an alternative source. There are animals in the arena, right? We've heard them. We've seen them. And they've got to get water from somewhere."

Okay, so maybe Torian's not as much of a dumbass as I thought…

"Right now, we can't do anything about it. Maybe other tributes will have been given water from sponsors. So our best chance is to hunt down some food, or hunt some tributes."

Upon hearing Torian speaking, I want to leap out from the trees and ask to join their alliance – but I know it won't work. Torian already hates me. He might accept me, but he'd stab me in the middle of the night. Once that might have been an exaggeration, but I saw how he nearly drew the knife on Destiny. He'd definitely do the same to me.

Destiny nods slowly. "So let's go."

They file past me, Torian going last as he glances across at Flame's motionless body, being lifted up by a hovercraft. At first I think he might be showing some emotion for her fate, but then he just shrugs and keeps moving.

"One less mouth to feed," Torian mutters to himself as he passes, and it takes every inch of my self-control not to throw myself at him and tackle him to the ground. As Torian's alliance moves off through the woods, I hear a piercing scream resonate through the arena, followed by a cannon. Another tribute dead. It's a shame it's not Torian.

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><p>It's later on that day, in the afternoon, when I actually see another tribute die. I'm rather desperately trying to make myself a hideout of leaves and sticks, feeling like I'm a kid back in District 12 rather than a tribute. It's pretty lame, and the dagger's not much help but it comes to cutting things. I wonder how I'm supposed to fend off another tribute, then.<p>

My temper's beginning to rise, and I decide to give up on the hideout before I become too agitated. Next thing I know, I'll be throwing things and cursing – not a good idea when there are other tributes out there. I sit down with a heavy sigh and think of home. How I wish I could be with my family, or with Emaleigh. Even the Seam would be better than the arena.

Perhaps I should hunt. The thought is still amusing. What am I going to do, ditch my dagger and hope that I manage to hit my prey with it? I don't know the first thing about hunting – whether it comes to animals, or other tributes.

I hear the sound of footsteps moving fast. Someone's running. I look up to see a small girl disappearing through the trees. From what I can tell, she's young – maybe even as young as Pandora. After a few moments, I can most rustling and crunching. The girl, who I think is from District 8, is being followed.

"She went this way! Come on!"

I tense, immediately expecting Careers. I quietly inch my way into my half-made hideout, feeling like a coward. It's not the Careers, but they're definitely more well-equipped than Torian's alliance. There are two boys and three girls, none of them under sixteen, and they're all armed.

They're fast. The young girl from District 8 doesn't stand a chance. One of the boys reaches her first – I think he's the older one from 3 – and he grabs her by the shoulder and swings her around. The girl starts to sob, backing away, yet she knows that she can't run.

"Please!" She cries, as the boy reaches for his sword. "Please don't do this!"

The boy from 3 mutters something that I can't hear, before he drives his sword into the girl's heart. She screams piercingly, and then crumples to the ground as her cannon goes off. By this time, the other tributes have caught up with their ally, and they stare down at the girl. None of them are bloodthirsty Careers. No one laughs or congratulates the boy from 3.

"She was so young," It's the girl with blonde corkscrew curls, the older one from 9. She definitely doesn't seem as volatile as Destiny.

"Come on, Faith." It's the other boy, who seems the oldest at around eighteen. I think he's from 9 as well – in fact, my suspicions are confirmed when he puts an arm around the blonde girl's shoulders. "We should get out of here."

I remain in silence as I hear the tributes crunch away. Unlike Torian, these teenagers actually showed remorse for what had happened. They weren't killers. Like me, they had been put into the arena and didn't want to kill to survive. It's only when they're far enough away that I can't hear them that I straighten up.

A hovercraft is descending for the girl, but there's something shining at her hip. I realize that she has a sword of her own, and although I feel guilty for taking it from her dead body, although I don't know how to wield the weapon, it might just be the thing that keeps me alive. I pry the sword off her and reach down, tentatively closely the girl's eyelids. She deserves that, at least.

I see the grievous wound in her chest, and all of that blood, and I immediately think I might throw up. I force back bile, screwing my eyes shut and thinking of anything else. Thinking of playing basketball with Lucan back at home. Thinking of the taste of Emaleigh's lips on mine…

I stagger back as the hovercraft takes up the small body, and as I'm shielding my eyes from the afternoon sun and watching as the girl from 8 is taken away, I realize exactly what the boy from 3 said when he stabbed her.

_I'm sorry._

* * *

><p>The sun's only just starting to sink below the horizon, and I can't seem to stop inspecting the sword that I got from the District 8 girl. I wish I knew her name. It feels so impersonal, just thinking of her as another tribute. Some, like the Careers, are better off as anonymous monsters. It makes it easier to kill them.<p>

I wonder how many people have died today? I know three for certain – the girls from 5 and 8, and whoever it was that screamed when Torian's alliance left the stream. My legs are aching from trekking through the arena, and despite my frantic searching, I haven't found any trace of either food, or Maysilee.

We were supposed to be allies. What happened? I guess it's my own fault, really. I was the one who told Maysilee to forget about alliances at the Cornucopia and just run. As the shadows start to close in and night falls, I put the sword away. Every slight noise, every twig snapping and every tree rustling, could be another tribute coming to get me to my frightened imagination.

The anthem starts to play, and it startles me. For a moment I was in my own little world – and now the Capitol has shattered the illusion that I could almost be alone. I'm just a player in their game, and it's only a matter of time before the other tributes find me. I lean back in my hideout, feeling concealed from the rest of the world. My stomach twists horribly as I prepare myself for whoever might have died.

First up is the girl from 5. Again, I'm reminded of how painfully young she was. Then, to my surprise, comes the boy from 7. He was part of Torian's alliance. I wonder, rather bitterly, if Torian turned on him and killed him – he wasn't as outspoken as the other two, and perhaps Torian saw him as worthless. Then comes the girl from 8, followed by the younger boy from 10. He must have been the one I heard scream.

It sounds horrible, but I have to admit that I'm a little disappointed when Torian's smarmy face doesn't appear in the sky. I used to just dislike him, but after his dismissive comment about the girl from 5, I know that I hate him. If there's anyone in the arena that I could kill, it's Torian.

I deliberately make myself as uncomfortable as possible. No matter how weary I might be in the morning, I just can't risk sleeping. I can hear a wolf howling in the distance, and it sends chills down my spine. I've got no doubt that this is going to be a very long night.


	6. Come Morning Light

**Chapter Six: Come Morning Light**

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks again to everyone who has read and reviewed so far. Sorry this has taken so long. Next chapter marks the beginning of the Haymitch/Maysilee alliance! EVERYONE SEEN THE HUNGER GAMES? WHAT DID WE ALL THINK?**

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><p>I just want to close my eyes and sleep, but I know that if I succumb to weariness, I'll wake up with a knife in my back. Ironic…I wouldn't wake up at all, really. My stomach rumbles insistently and my tongue and throat are dry as bone. Sooner or later, I'm going to have to find something to eat or drink. I don't trust the plants. I don't trust the water. There's no way I'm resorting to cannibalism, so I guess I have to find some nuts or some animals.<p>

Ahh, speaking of nuts. I stand up to screams and a chase. No cannons yet, so I'm guessing that it's the Careers. I trudge wearily through the forest towards the cacophony. I should probably be more cautious, but I need to know the truth. I need to see the danger for myself. So my feet drag me inexplicably to the sound of screams.

I'm astonished to see that it's the pair from 9, the curly-haired blonde and the older boy who I saw just yesterday. The girl, Faith I think her name is, has been forced to her knees by the vicious-looking boy from 2, who has a hand fisted in her curls to hold her in place. The auburn-haired girl from 2, Radar, is stabbing at the boy, to much cheering from the other Careers. Faith sobs as she watches, but with the District 2 boy's knife at her throat, there isn't much she can do.

"Enough." The voice is sharp and cold and immediately Radar backs off. I watch incredulously. There's no backlash, no resentment. I watch the District 1 girl, so very pretty with her sparkly-bright eyes and white-blonde hair, heft up her axe as she stalks forward. Suddenly, the Careers have lapsed into silence. There's no doubting that this District 1 girl is their unquestioned leader.

It's over quickly. The District 1 girl swings forth the axe and the District 9 boy's head goes rolling, blood spurting everywhere. Radar flinches as it spatters her face, but the District 1 girl remains emotionless. She watches without feeling as the District 9 boy's head rolls through the dirt and comes to a stop. It's possibly the most disgusting, horrific thing I've ever seen. I'm chilled by this girl's ruthlessness. But still, I can't look away.

"Balthazar!" Faith screams as the cannon goes off, her sobs becoming more forceful as she tries to turn her face away from what's happening.

Radar mocks a pout. "You ruined my fun, Velvet."

"You had your fun," Velvet, the District 1 girl, replies curtly. She turns to glance at the vicious-looking boy from 2 who is holding Faith still. "Zeke…finish her."

Even from where I am, I can see the utter fear crossing Faith's face. But it's all over in a moment for her as well. Zeke yanks at her hair, forcing her head back and exposing her throat, which he quickly slashes open in a jagged, bloody line. He releases Faith and she crumples to the ground. His expression is contemptuous as her cannon goes off.

"Let's go," The District 1 boy with the permanent scowl persists. He glowers at Velvet and I'm guessing he's the one Career who isn't pleased with her assuming control. Perhaps he'll challenge her. There's always dissension among the Careers.

"Not so fast, Neon." Velvet gestures towards Faith and Balthazar's bodies. "They could have weapons, something of worth."

Neon immediately whirls on the youngest of the Careers, the other District 1 boy, who is around Pandora's age. "Cash, check them."

Cash pulls a face and I know that I can't watch anymore. Death is one thing, but watching the Careers search the bodies of the fallen without emotion, as if they'd never been _people_…I can't do it. I turn and walk away. Two dead already, and the day's only just begun.

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><p>By midday, it's warm to the point of being uncomfortable. I manage to kill a squirrel, and my stomach squirms at the knowledge that I'll have to eat it semi-cooked. A fire would attract a lot of attention, so I can't leave it going too long. I roast the squirrel for as long as I dare, before I use my knife to gut the thing. What am I even thinking? Back home I could hardly even make a garden salad.<p>

The squirrel's hard to swallow. The meat's slimy and not cooked properly, but it's better than nothing. I kick dirt over the pitiful excuse for a fire I managed to start, before moving on. Now that I've eaten something, I feel thirstier than ever. As I make my way downhill, a cannon goes off. Well, that would be the third kill of the day.

As I keep trudging down, my legs sore and aching from the amount of walking I'm doing, I realize I'm slugging through mud. It's coming up to my ankles and I'm glad I'm wearing boots. Wait…mud is a combination of dirt and water…which means…

I immediately start to get optimistic. The mud's thin and soggy, more water than dirt, but there's no trace of clean water. I grimace inwardly as I realize what I have to do. This is no time to act like a pussy. Hey, if I can handle half-cooked squirrel, I can handle muddy water. It's not like District 12 is clean.

I shovel water into my mouth like there's no tomorrow – which there very well may not be. It's filthy, but to me it tastes like heaven. It's been so long since I drank _anything._ I repeat the action again and again, getting as much dirty water into my system as I can. I splash it over my face, washing off some of the grime that seems to have become stuck to me these past few days.

I rise from the muddy water wondering if I'm cleaner or dirtier. I don't mind because for now, I'm appeased. It doesn't last for long, because only moments later come loud, confident voices. Only one group of tributes would be arrogant enough to make noise and think there would be no consequences – Career.

I remember how Faith and Balthazar died and I turn on my heel and run as fast as I can. However, that's not such a great idea on slippery ground and wearing soaking boots. I skid over some wet leaves and crash heavily to the ground. All of a sudden, the Careers stop talking.

"What was that?" It's a girl's voice. Since both girls from 4 are dead, along with the second District 1 girl, this must be the other District 2 girl. I think I heard them call her Sorrell. "I thought I heard something."

"Yeah, so did I," pipes up Cash.

"Tributes." It's a male voice I barely recognize – one of the boys from 4, no doubt. He sounds cruelly pleased. I bet it's that one who looks amused all the time, like the Games is one big joke. "We should kill them."

"Of course that's what we're doing, moron," Radar snaps back at him. "Are you always this stupid, Drake?"

Drake grumbles an unintelligible response, and I'm suddenly starting to see the muddy water as my salvation in more ways than one. As silently as I can, I slither across the filth towards the puddle. If the Careers catch me, they won't show mercy. So I need to hide, because I know they'll be faster than me if I try and run. I slide into the puddle of water, agonizingly slowly. The slightest sound could betray me. I lather mud through my hair, all over my face, and sink as low down as I can.

Boots squelch over wet leaves, and I watch as Radar stalks through followed by the others. Velvet lingers a little behind, her bright eyes narrowed. Neon is watching her carefully, and I can just tell that there's tension in the Career ranks. Radar glances around sharply and her shoulders slump as she sees no one. Triumph starts its slow course through me, but I push it down. The Careers are not gone yet and I would be a moron to be found out now.

"There's no one here." Radar's tone has become irritable. "You're so twitchy, Sorrell. It was probably just an animal."

"Wait." Velvet's tone is cold and I watch, shrinking down a little more, as she paces the area. She suspects something, I know it. After a few tense moments – during which I literally hold my breath – Velvet turns back to her comrades. "Never mind."

"You're losing your touch, Velvet," Neon's voice is mocking, degrading her, "Perhaps you should let someone else take over control – because that's obviously what you seem to think. That you're in control, I mean."

Okay, so I've heard Careers bitching at each other in the arena, but this is just blatant hostility. Velvet throws Neon a look that's pure murder, and I wonder how long it is before one of them kills the other. Neon just stares right back at her, and there's a challenge there in his eyes.

"Shut up, Neon," is all she snaps before she stalks past, nudging past Radar and starting further down the hill. Somewhat reluctantly, the rest of the Careers follow. I wait in silence for a few more minutes, just to be sure. Then, slowly but steadily, I drag myself out of the muddy puddle. There's no point even trying to clear off the mess all over me.

"That's quite the show, Haymitch."

I whirl around as Torian drops out of the trees, along with the rest of the survivors from his group – Destiny and Levi. Oh boy. The way these guys fight, I don't see them lasting very long at all. I'm still hoping Destiny slits Torian's throat in his sleep…and then I go cold. When did I become so bloodthirsty, so uncaring about who lives and who dies? Perhaps the Games are starting to impact me after all.

"Relax," Torian drawls, laughing easily as he sees me reaching for my knife, "I'm not going to kill you…yet. We just came for some water. We noticed you come down, watched you. Thanks for the help."

I'm infuriated. The last thing I wanted to do was help Torian in any way, shape or form. Levi is already splashing his face and drinking from the muddy water. Destiny has wrinkled her nose, as if she's above such things, but she hesitantly walks over and starts drinking anyway. Torian doesn't. His attention remains focused on me.

"Have to say, the Careers don't seem to be getting along."

His conversational tone, as well as his flippant attitude towards the Games in general, still bothers me. I still stick to my belief that if I have to kill anyone in this arena, it will be Torian.

"They're just as stupid as they are any other year," I shoot back, "Can't say your own alliance is any better."

Torian chuckles. "Well, we're all still here, aren't we?"

"What happened to the District 7 boy?" I demand, "Get sick of him?"

Torian's eyes flash and I know I've hit a nerve. That flare tells me that Torian wasn't responsible for the 7 boy's death…only, who was? Careers? Another group of tributes? Something else in the arena? Nowhere and nothing is safe.

"Watch your tongue, Haymitch. I could choose to cut it out here and now, but I'm letting you live."

"What a noble choice," I reply dryly, my hand fisting around the hilt of my knife in case Torian suddenly changes his mind. He's bigger and probably stronger, but I bet anything I'm quicker. "Why's that, Torian?"

The grin that crosses Torian's face is not a pleasant one, and neither are the words that come out of his mouth.

"Because you're not worth the effort."

That insult stings like a slap to the face. Out of all the things Torian could have said, all his protests of mercy or another other shit he might have come up with, the truth hurts the most. I try and maintain my composure, but Torian swaggers over to join the rest of his little group, with a smirk on his face that says he's already won.


	7. Dead Hearts

**Chapter Seven: Dead Hearts**

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><p><strong>AN: Okay, so it's been a while, I know. Sorry. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and I would love you forever if you would read and review "Forbidden Fruit", my new Gloss/OC fic.**

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><p>Morning brings a sunrise the colour of blood. I stumble through the arena on tired feet, wondering if maybe it's going to be a lack of sleep that kills me after all. Sometimes my vision's a bit hazy, and I have to convince myself not to lie down and rest. Pretty stupid not having allies, now that I think about it. For one deluded moment, I wonder what it would be like to have joined Torian…then I chastise myself for it. Around him, I'm as good as dead.<p>

There's not much of the muddy water left in my bottle, so I can only afford a few drops at a time. As for food? The remnants of the half-cooked squirrel have gone bad by now, and I don't want to eat them out of hunger's sake and risk making myself sick. A sick Haymitch is even worse than a starving Haymitch.

"Look what we've got here." It's the boy from District 6, the older one. He watches me with a rather curious look about his face and I mentally curse myself for not noticing that I was followed. He's not along either – he's accompanied by a curious-looking District 11 girl and the eighteen-year-old girl from District 7. I swallow hard.

"It's the boy from 12." The District 7 girl paces closer. I take a step back and slide out my knife. I haven't killed yet. I don't know if I can, or even how. Where do I put the knife? Should I pretend they're all Torian? "What's his name, Thorn?"

The District 6 boy, Thorn, frowns. "Not sure."

What does it matter what my name is? Shouldn't they just kill me already? The District 11 girl seems to be thinking along the same lines. She's younger than I am and clearly growing agitated at drawing things out. Her eyes flick constantly from me to Thorn and back again, the dagger shaking in her hand. She doesn't want to kill me.

"Kill him, Thorn," the District 7 girl insists, seeing the other girl's fear. Maybe she's frightened of killing herself, but if that's true, it doesn't show. I swallow hard and take another stumbling step back as Thorn advances, drawing out a knife of his own. He moves towards me with slow, careful steps as I can only watch in growing trepidation.

I wonder how the rest of Panem is seeing me. District 12 especially. I wonder what Em is thinking of me. When Em pops up in my mind, I know I'm not going down without a fight. Thorn's slow measures agitate me. I just want it to be fast and done with. I lunge forward with my knife, yelling something incomprehensible. Thorn's eyes widen and he backs up a bit, and when I finally come to my senses, I see and hear what's happening around me.

The District 11 girl is screaming. Thorn has a wicked cut in his chest and when I look down at my knife, it's tainted with blood. I did it…I actually killed someone. A Career might be full of triumph at this moment, but I was completely frozen in horror. I felt the bile rising in my throat as I watched Thorn drop to the ground. The District 11 girl's screams continued to ring in my ears, and the cannon booms.

The District 7 girl is more composed. She glances in shock from Thorn's motionless body, to me. She's found her target. Her eyes narrow and she draws her sword, and again, I act without thinking. The knife flies from my hand, hitting her in the neck. She rips it free and I watch the blood gushing like a crimson fountain down her throat, staining her clothes and her skin bright red. She falls too, and I just stand where I am, astounded by what I've done. The cannon fires again.

That's why I don't realize until it's too late that the girl from District 11 has stopped screaming. In fact, I forget all about her, until I find that there's a cold knife pressed to my throat. Her breathing is ragged by my ear, and I curse myself for throwing my weapon out of reach. There's nothing to stop the District 11 girl from slitting my throat, except perhaps her own fear.

I wait for the blade to cut through my skin, only there's a high-pitched whizzing sound and a sudden cry as the District 11 girl releases me. I whirl around to see a small dart in the side of her neck. It must be poisoned, because she staggers like she's delirious, before she crumples to the ground too. As the cannon booms a third time, Maysilee Donner steps out from the bushes with a dart blowgun in her hand.

For a moment, the two of us examine each other. Maysilee looks just as worn as I must – her blonde hair is all mussed up and there's grime all over her face. My heart hammers as I think she might kill me, too – but then she stows the blowgun away and walks towards me with her hand outstretched.

"Alliance?"

I'm astonished, yet I find myself grasping Maysilee's hand in a firm shake. District 12 will like this, I think. But I'm distancing myself more and more from what I've left behind. What District 12 likes doesn't matter in the arena. It's all about survival, and with many other tributes still to face, forming an alliance with Maysilee does seem a wise decision. She smiles wearily.

"I saw what you did to the other two."

"Was that your first kill?" I blurt, gesturing towards the body of the girl from District 11 as it's lifted away by a chopper. Maysilee's eyes become haunted and she nods. I wish then that I hadn't asked. "Did you somehow put poison on those darts?"

Maysilee smiles wryly and nods again. "It wasn't hard to figure out that most stuff in the arena's poisonous. Once I had that in mind, I decided it might be good to use poison so that…so that the deaths were quicker."

"We should head towards the edge of the arena," I say, glancing around. Now that the cannons have gone off, other tributes will be aware of the lessened numbers. The Careers or Torian's group might even come looking. I don't want to be around when they arrive.

"You look tired." Maysilee examines me critically. "We should find a safe spot to lie low for now. I'll keep watch while you get some rest and then you can do the same for me."

I nod. I don't exactly have a better plan, and sleep sounds very tempting. From what I know of Maysilee, she's not the sort to form an alliance and kill me in my sleep. If she wanted me dead, I already would be. I follow her through the forest, my boots crunching over leaves glistening with blood.

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><p>I wake to the smell of smoke and the sound of screams. My first reaction is to bolt upright, scrambling for my knife, but Maysilee quickly presses me back down and puts a finger to her lips, warning me to be quiet as the commotion unfolds. The sun is setting now, so I realise I must have slept through the entire day and through the next. Wow, I must have been tired.<p>

It's the girl from 10, the one I thought was really pretty, sprinting down through the trees. She's followed by the older boy from 10, and I wonder if they're the ones who lit the fire. Not too far away, a cannon resonates through the arena.

"_You little bitch_!" A savage roar comes from the top of the hill, and I watch as the Careers thunder down after the District 10 pair. Judging by the fury on their faces and the cannon I just heard, I'm guessing the 10 girl managed to kill one of them. There's fear written across the girl's face, the boy's as well. Velvet, the girl from District 1, draws her arm back and hurls her axe. It hits the District 10 boy, who falls with a cry.

"Merrick!" The girl exclaims, whirling around to her district partner. She hesitates, as though she's not sure whether to leave him and run – but in the end, it's a fool's decision that she makes to stay. She kneels down and her face contorts as she pulls the axe from Merrick's leg. He hisses in pain.

"Go, Serralyn."

She shakes her head, not rising from his side even as the Careers converge on them. Velvet hefts up her axe and slices clean across Merrick's chest in one swift, brutal movement. He crumples, gurgling up blood for only a moment before he stills and the cannon sounds. A cold smile curls Velvet's lips as she turns on a clearly terrified Serralyn. I've seen these Careers at work before. I know how little mercy they have.

Maysilee shifts beside me and I can see the pained expression on her face. Like me, she wishes she could do something other than sit in silence and watch the Careers kill these tributes. The amused-looking boy from 4 – I think his name is Drake – tugs Serralyn to her feet and presses his sword to her throat. Velvet examines her critically.

That's when I realise who's missing – the District 1 boy, Neon, that Velvet was constantly arguing with. He must have been the one who the District 10 girl killed. None of the Careers look especially perturbed by it, and I'm guessing Velvet's just glad that no one's around to challenge her leadership.

"We should give her a District 4 death," Velvet suggests quietly. I'm not exactly sure what this means until the rest of the Careers shout with glee and I hear 'drowning' and 'to the river!'. Serralyn kicks and screams as Drake tugs her down towards the river, and Maysilee and I stay stiff and quiet as the hooting of the Careers and the screams of their victim die down. As I push myself to my feet, knees cracking, a cannon goes off.

"That was horrible," Maysilee whispers, pale-faced as a chopper looms down to pick up Merrick's decimated body. I have to agree with her there – I don't think I want to know what happened to Serralyn in the end.

The light in the sky's beginning to fade as Maysilee and I traipse towards the edge of the arena. We stop underneath a thicket of trees, and I glance at Maysilee, who is looking pale and drawn. That's right, she hasn't slept. She's been watching over me. I feel a little guilty as we sit.

"Your turn to sleep," I tell her, "I'll keep watch."

Maysilee nods and curls on her side. After only minutes she's breathing softly and I flop onto my back, looking up at the sky as the Capitol anthem plays and tributes start showing up in the sky. I was right about Neon from 1 – his is the first face in the sky tonight. There's a girl from District 5, and I realise that with her death, they're the first district to lose all of their tributes these Games. It's a bit sad, really. Then there's the pair from 10 we saw earlier…then the Capitol anthem. Four down today.

Doing a quick count on my fingers, I figure that if the only tributes who died yesterday were the ones Maysilee and I killed, then apart from us there are only fourteen others tributes in the arena. Dammit, Torian's still alive. Something's going to have to be done about that sooner or later.

I force myself into a position where I won't be too comfortable, where I'm not at risk of falling asleep. I spare Maysilee a glance. I think Em would be glad that I allied with her. A smile tweaks at my lips at the thought of Em, of family, of home. That's the only thing that brings me comfort in the cold, dark night of the arena.


	8. Bite The Dust

**Chapter Eight: Bite The Dust**

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><p><strong>AN: So we're really getting into things now! Not long left until Maysilee dies and Haymitch is in for the fight of his life…thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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><p>Torian's alliance is doing disgustingly well. That's my first thought when they swagger into view. It's him, Destiny and Levi. I'm mildly surprised that they haven't killed each other yet, but there's no time to think about why. I grab the still-sleeping Maysilee and drag her behind a bush, clamping a hand over her mouth to keep her silent when she wakes with a start. I watch through the leaves as they stop, panting for breath like they've been running. They all dump the packs they've been carrying on their backs – what the hell did they do to deserve them? – and Destiny pulls out a bottle of water, offering it around.<p>

Maysilee and I exchange horrified glances. Torian and his alliance is only down to three, but they must be playing their cards right if they're getting such good stuff from sponsors. It starts adding up when I remember the Careers were pretty well off. They've been killing people. I clench my hands into fists. I never liked Torian, but he's quickly becoming the sort of tribute I would always condemn to die.

Then the most stupid thing happens. A boy crunches down the hill, his boots crackling over dried twigs and snapping branches. He couldn't have been louder if he was an elephant. I watch as Torian stiffens, whirling and drawing a knife from his belt. He glances at the others and a smirk curves his lips.

"Mine."

He sprints off, closely followed by Levi and Destiny. The boy freezes and then yells out in shock, turning and running back the way that he'd come. Poor, idiot boy. I don't even know who he is, but come night, I guess I'll find out. Anyway, I'm more focused on what Maysilee is tapping my shoulder and pointing out to me: in their haste to kill, Torian's alliance have left their backpacks behind.

It's a tense moment and a huge decision that we have to make in seconds – but I go for it, if only because I can imagine the look on Torian's face. A cannon goes off as I grab one of the packs. I whirl around and run as fast as I can away from there, Maysilee hot on my heels. After a few minutes we stop in a thick bush to catch our breath, and a howl resonates through the arena. I stiffen, but there's no cannon. Instead…

"HAYMITCH, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

I can't help but feel a bit accomplished that he knows the stolen packs were my work. I can just imagine him kicking at the dirt and stomping his feet…but my entertained notions are stopped as Maysilee shakes my arm.

"We'd better get out of here. He's going to want to hunt us down."

Let him try. But still…being a safe distance away from Torian sounds like a good idea right now. We keep scampering away from our district partner's fury until Maysilee literally collapses to her knees, raking her hands through her blonde hair. I whirl around and realise okay, we can stop now. We've run enough. Maysilee shrugs the pack off her shoulders, looking at it, looking at me.

"Why?" Her voice is hoarse and her eyes are wide with fear. "Why did we do that? He's going to hunt us down, Haymitch. He's going to kill us."

I see it then, written clearly as words across her face. Torian is Maysilee's greatest fear just as much as he is my greatest enemy. She doesn't want to be afraid – hell, who does? – and she certainly can't bring herself to tell the truth. I offer my hand to her and she watches me suspiciously, before she takes my grimy palm and pulls herself to her feet. There's a sort of trust between us, but Maysilee and I know that soon enough, we'll be forced apart. You can't remain allies in the Games forever.

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><p>The boy that Torian killed was from District 8. He, along with the boy from 3 who isn't in Torian's alliance, are the faces in the sky tonight. I look up at the stars and try and calculate who's left. Out of the Career pack, there are probably eight still left. Their numbers are still way too high for me to even consider wanting to try anything on them. Torian has his little alliance of three. Two from District 6 are still alive, but that doesn't surprise me so much considering they're usually pretty smart.<p>

I'm just dozing off when a scream rips through the arena, rips through my sleep. I sit bolt upright, and beside me, Maysilee clutches her blowgun. I stop and wait for the cannon, but it doesn't come. Maysilee and I exchange troubled glances, before another scream tears through the tense silence. It's not a scream of fear, as I'm so used to hearing in the arena. It's a heart-wrenching sound of immense agony.

The screaming continues well into the night without relenting. Maysilee shifts, a small whimper escaping her as she presses her hands over her ears, trying to block it out. I try and convince myself that it's some kind of mutt bent on tormenting us, but the longer the screams last, the more human they seem. I'm curious as to which tribute is enduring clearly horrific torture, but at the same time, I don't want to know.

Maysilee starts to sob softly into her hands. She isn't a weak person, but I know how she feels. I'm feeling sick to the stomach as the screams show no sign of stopping. I shift closer and awkwardly slide an arm around her shoulders, tugging her close. There's little enough comfort in the arena, and all we have is each other. Maysilee cries into my shoulder. I wish it was a loud bawl to drown out the terrifying sounds that sends chills down my spines, but instead they're quiet sobs. I swallow back bile. There won't be any sleep, not tonight.

It's almost dawn by the time the screaming finally grows hoarser and then stops completely. Not long afterwards, a cannon goes off. Maysilee breathes a sigh of relief, and I feel that finally the poor, tormented tribute can finally be at peace. I'm sad for them, but at the same time, I'm burning with anger. I can't be certain, but I think the tribute was being tortured by others. My hands clench into fists as I think of my enemy. _Torian._

If this is his doing, nothing's going to save him.

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><p>We manage to gather more filthy water, and kill a small squirrel that we share between us. It's risky to light a fire, but it's better during the day. The squirrel is hardly cooked, but it will have to do. Maysilee stamps out the fire and we continue on our way, but we've hardly left our last spot when there are shouts from the hill. I tense, immediately fearing that we've been caught, but it's just Careers yelling to each other, bold because they know their numbers mean they won't be attacked.<p>

"Look, I told you I smelled smoke!" Radar runs down the hill to where our campfire has nearly burnt itself out. "There have to be tributes nearby. They won't have got very far."

I exchange a horrified look with Maysilee, glancing around for a hiding place. Our safest bet is the trees, so I indicate this to her, giving her a boost into the trees. She scampers up nimbly, and I follow. Okay, I'm not really a climber so it's a challenge, but even fumbling around in a tree is better than staying on the ground where the Careers can catch us.

"It could be a trap." Drake glances around suspiciously, and I come to the conclusion that not all Careers are dipshits after all. Radar is still focused intently on the remains of our campfire and the skin of our squirrel. A shout makes the group turn around, and from my vantage point I see Rome from District 4 crumple to his knees, before hitting the ground. A cannon goes off, and immediately the arena is full of the feral snarls and indignant roars of enraged Careers.

"Who the hell was that?" Velvet, clearly the leader of the Careers, shoves past the others. I can't see what killed Rome from here, but I'm betting it was an arrow from the way he just crumpled to the ground. A stealthy rustling below makes me freeze, fearing that I've been caught. I'm just about to give up when Maysilee taps my shoulder and points.

It's the other two from Torian's alliance, quietly making their way away from the scene of the crime. Destiny has a bow in her hand and I'm guessing that it was her who shot Rome down. She murmurs something fierce to Levi, who nods eagerly. What strikes me as odd is the absence of Torian. After all, they're here to kill, which he enjoys – not to mention the more people against the Careers, the better.

"Haymitch…" Maysilee whispers, her face paling.

Then I understand. I know whose face I am going to be seeing in the sky tonight – because we were so wrong. We were so focused on Torian's vindictiveness that we forgot all about his vulnerability. Everything starts to come together like a puzzle to which I've found all of the pieces. It wasn't Torian torturing someone last night, because Torian was the one being tortured…and it was the Careers that did it. His alliance is here for vengeance. Torian is not here because Torian is dead.

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><p>Maysilee and I are stunned into silence and it's not until well after the Careers are gone that either of us dares to speak. It's easy enough to believe that someone like Torian is the villain, but it's difficult to accept that in reality, he was just a victim. A victim of the Capitol, just like the rest of us. Now, he's a victim of the Games. I knew that the Careers were cruel, but their malice now seems limitless to me.<p>

Many questions are circling inside my head. Most of them will probably never be answered. Why did the Careers just torture Torian instead of killing him outright? Where were his allies at the time? Why didn't they come to help him? The biggest one of all – why didn't anyone have the freaking compassion to end it? The squirrel tastes disgusting in my mouth and I know that I can't bear to eat it.

There's more screaming, but this time it's brief and over quickly. The cannon sounds and my stomach unclenches. Never, for as long as I live, do I want to hear another Torian. Then somehow, it seems a small mercy that I'm here in the Games, instead of back in District 12 actually seeing what happened to Torian. I don't actually want to know. I don't ever want to see. The screams were painful enough.

If my count's right, there are around eleven of us left. Maysilee and I, the remainder of Torian's alliance, the lone District 6 girl whose name escapes me…and the six Careers. It's them we need to be wary of. It makes me worry to know that even if we formed an alliance with District 6 and Torian's allies, we would still not be able to match the Careers. One of them is going to win this year. I don't want to believe it's true, but the desolation is starting to sink in. What other outcome could there be?

The last we saw, the Careers were headed for the volcano. I don't know what they expect to find there, and honestly, I don't care. All I know is that Maysilee and I need to stay away from them as much as possible. So once we're done eating the squirrel, we pick up our packs and begin the trek for the edge of the arena.


	9. Erupt

**Chapter Nine: Erupt**

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><p><strong>AN: This is the chapter where lots of the Career pack will lose their lives when a volcano erupts…hope you enjoy! Thanks to all of those who read and reviewed!**

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><p>There aren't many of us left, and I'm really starting to recognise that fact. The girl from District 6, the remnants of Torian's alliance, Maysilee and I…and the Careers. Much as I don't like to think of it, it's almost like they're following us. Every now and again, Maysilee and I are forced to take cover as they venture out from the trees. It's only later in the day, after mulling it over for some time, that I turn to Maysilee and voice my idea.<p>

"We should team up with District 3 and District 9."

I remember them vaguely from training now. Levi was brilliant at setting up snares, and Destiny was amazing with a bow. With them on our side, we might be able to beat the Careers, but we sure could reduce their numbers. Maysilee stares at me like I'm crazy, just for a moment, before she licks her lips and nods. She sees the sense in it, too. We might not be able to trust Levi and Destiny, but it's the best thing we've got right now.

"How do we find them?" Maysilee inquires, glancing around at the darkening sky. It's not a great time for attempting to find fellow tributes, but an idea occurs to me. I set up gathering as much of a fuel load as I can, and crouch down. Maysilee watches with horror as I strike two rocks together and create a small blaze. She grabs me by the arm and tugs me to my feet.

"Are you mad, Haymitch? Why are you setting a fire? That'll draw…"

Maysilee stops as she realises what she's saying, what I'm doing. There's a chance that it'll draw in Careers as well, but I wonder if Levi and Destiny might come to the fire. We clamber into the trees and keep watch. For a few tense minutes, my fire blazes out of control and I think perhaps no one is coming. Then I hear footsteps crunching over dry branches. Destiny enters my view, her bow strung, pointing in all directions. Levi follows her uncertainly.

"Well?" he demands nervously. "Is there anyone here?"

"Doesn't seem to be." Destiny doesn't relax though. She's extremely tense, her eyes darting around, taking in her surroundings. She doesn't trust the quiet. After the horror that befell Torian, I don't blame her for being suspicious.

I take a huge risk then – I kick at a loose branch, making Destiny spin and point her arrow directly at me. I press my finger to my lips and she frowns, at first not sure what I mean. After a moment she reluctantly lowers her bow. Her companion has set about scavenging around the place for nuts and berries, but this is a dry place, at the peak of a steep hill. He won't find much here.

"What do you want, District 12?" Destiny demands as I jump out of the tree. Maysilee follows, but she keeps a hand on her blowgun. She is just as mistrustful as Destiny, while Levi remains oblivious to everything around him but the simple task of finding some food. "Are you nuts, lighting a fire like that? The Careers will come for you."

"We want an alliance." I stuff my hands in my pockets, meeting Destiny's gaze squarely. She looks surprised, but doesn't interrupt as I continue talking. "Look, there are six Careers out there. The District 6 girl. Then there's all of us. Wouldn't we stand a better chance at killing some Careers if we team up?"

"Right." Destiny raises an eyebrow, still gripping her bow tightly. "But we'd survive longer if we stayed away from the Careers. We all know how they are – killing each other off. We won't need to wait long for that to start happening."

Maysilee takes a step forward. "It's us they're after. You know what happened to Torian."

Destiny winces and there's an awkward, tense silence. Everyone left in the arena knows the fate Torian met at the hands of the Careers, even if they didn't see it. I don't blame Destiny and Levi for running, when that was happening. She sighs heavily and rakes a hand through her hair.

"We're stronger together," I pitch in, taking advantage of the silence, "Hey, I'm not saying that one of us will win. That's probably not the case. But don't you want to take down as many Careers are you can? Make it harder for them?"

Back at home, I can just imagine District 12 cheering for my resolve. Sure, they might not be, but it's about time I showed some courage in these Games. I've been running and hiding. Now it's time to fight. Not openly – that would be stupid. We can do it an underhanded way.

Levi starts to choke. We all whirl around, expecting some kind of attack, but instead the berries fall from his hand as his face begins to turn blue. Destiny watches in fascinated horror as he claws at his own throat, as do Maysilee and I. Levi crumples to his knees, his eyes beseeching us to do something, to help him…but as he foams up at the mouth and starts to turn purple, I know he's beyond help.

"You idiot!" Destiny cries, and there's a hint of sadness in her tone, like she's trying to hold back tears. "You know everything in this arena is poisonous to eat! _You know!_"

Levi doesn't hear, because he just gives one last cough before he falls to the ground, still. There's white foam in his mouth and a feverish gleam to his eyes as his cannon goes off. It's only then that I feel sick, sick to the stomach. Fear overwhelms me, fear like I've never known before…because looking around, I see the Careers that have been watching us silently, watching Levi's death. Now, they've come for the rest of us.

"District 12." It's the amused-looking boy from 4, swaggering forward with a feral smile beginning to curve his lips. Yes, the Careers frighten me. I'd be mad not to be scared. He glances from me to the fire. "Nice little beacon you've got going there."

Destiny is watching everything with growing horror. She reaches for one of her arrows, but auburn-haired Radar steps forward and quickly snaps her wrist. Destiny's cry of pain resonates through the trees, making me wince. Radar forces Destiny to her knees as Drake, the boy from 4, advances on Maysilee. He steps close, fisting a hand in her hair. I tense up without meaning to.

"Got yourself a new girlfriend?" Drake jeers, twisting Maysilee's hair as she grimaces in pain. "She's pretty."

"Leave her alone," I say before I can stop myself. He takes that as confirmation, smirking, but in reality I just don't want to see Maysilee suffer like Torian did. I'm feeling nauseous. Oh god, I think I might throw up. A cold sweat has broken across my forehead. Even my hands are sweaty. I find myself praying for Drake to kill Maysilee, kill her straight out and spare her the violence they used on Torian. I hated Torian, but he never deserved an end like that. No one does.

"Zeke." It's her. The girl from District 1. Velvet. Her voice is as cold as her eyes and she nods to the vicious looking boy from District 2. He hefts up his spear, an insane grin working across his lips as he moves towards Destiny. She struggles against Radar, who just twists her arm even harder. Her wild struggles only result in more pain for her, before Zeke whirls his spear around and slices off her head.

Blood spatters across my face, warm and wet. I slide my fingers down my cheek and they come away red. I force back bile as I watch Destiny's head hit the ground with a dull thud. Maysilee is screaming, but I'm hearing her as if from a distance. Zeke examines the blood on his spear, seemingly unperturbed by what he's just done. The cannon fires, and I nearly jump out of my skin at the sudden, loud noise.

"Shut her up," Velvet snaps, gesturing towards the hysterical Maysilee. Zeke moves forward, but before he can do anything, there's a rumbling in the ground, a movement beneath our feet. Zeke frowns and I glance around, heart hammering like a war drum. It's then I see the lava coursing through the forest towards us, greedily devouring anything in its path. This isn't a hill we're on, or even a mountain. It's a volcano.

I grab Maysilee's hand and I do the only thing sensible: I run. The Careers snatch for us at first, but then Sorrell screams piercingly, pointing towards the advancing lava. I relish that scream, sick as that might seem. The Careers seem so cold that it's good to know that there's something they fear, something they're afraid of. I'm too busy running for my life to see what happens, dragging Maysilee away from the lava until we reach a tree at the foot of the volcano.

"Climb!"

Maysilee doesn't need to be told twice. She scurries up the tree and I'm close behind, grappling with branches and fighting off leaves. Another shrill scream alerts me to the fact that the Careers haven't yet escaped this: an adversary that even they can't fight. Sorrell's the slowest, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste to escape the lava. I watch with fascinated horror as it overwhelms her, and there's not even a cry as she's sucked under. It's that sudden.

Cash is next. He's small and panting for breath as he tries to follow. The only ones that really stand a chance are Velvet and Zeke, who are sprinting well ahead of the others. Cash is dragged under too, but he goes down howling. Radar's not far in front of him and she's smarter, attempting to climb a tree. The problem is that this tree is slender and the lava easily eats through the bark. The tree creaks and gives way. Radar screams as she plunges into the lava.

Maysilee curls into a ball on her branch, not wanting to watch – but I've always been the sort who could never tear my eyes away from something, no matter how horrific. Drake, Zeke and Velvet are all still sprinting away, nearly at the point that Maysilee and I have reached. A tree crunches and slams down in front of Drake, separating him from the others. Neither of the others come back for him, because Careers don't have that kind of compassion for each other. Drake glances left, glances right. He tries to jump the log, and is impaled on a branch when he falls, the lava making his death quicker than he has a right to.

"Maysilee." I lean across and gently touch her shoulder. She jumps and nearly slips from the branch, but I catch her arm and haul her back up. She's scared and she has every right to be. Suddenly, it occurs to me that there are bigger threats in this arena than the Careers. There are only two of them now…only five tributes in all. Maysilee looks at me and there's understanding in her blue eyes, an understanding of what we have to do. She nods.

"You've been a good ally, Haymitch." She clambers down from the tree. I watch her in surprise, although I know it would have to happen eventually. She's cutting off the alliance, and I know nothing I say can make her stay, not with so few tributes left. "We'll walk away from this, okay? We'll separate. But after that, if I see you again, I can't spare you again. I…I want to go home."

I swallow and nod. Maysilee offers me a rueful smile before trekking away. I watch her go, ruminating on how short and dry our goodbye was. We were friends once. But the Games take everything away from you. I hitch up my pack and continue around the base of the volcano. I know where I'm going – towards the edge of the arena. I don't know what I expect to find, but I know that once I'm there, I'll figure out what it is that I've been looking for all this time.


	10. The Edge

**Chapter Ten: The Edge**

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><p><strong>AN: Okay guys, so we're getting down to the last few tributes now. There will be a little bit after the Games – if you remember, the Capitol has Haymitch's mum, brother and girlfriend all killed – but we are getting close to the end. Hope you've enjoyed reading this, and reviews are amazing as always!**

**I would also be immensely grateful if you could check out my joint fic under the penname Smexi-MnMs. The fic is called "Nefarious" and chronicles the life of fictional Victor, Elethea Ambrose of District 4.**

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><p>I trudge to the edge of the arena, my boots dragging in the dirt. Although I know for sure that there's less in my pack, it somehow feels heavier on my back. My back aches, my head throbs. My throat is raw and dry. Can I even outlast the remaining few tributes? All I know is that I walk, and walk, because there's nothing left for me to do. I reach the edge and my boots snag on loose rocks. One of them goes skipping out of range as I watch disinterestedly.<p>

Then suddenly, the rock comes skipping back. I frown as I glance at the edge of the arena. There's some kind of force field there, something to stop us getting out…but it looks like it does more than just that. To test what I think I might have discovered, I pick up a larger rock, testing its weight in my hand. I heft it at the force field, ducking as it comes rebounding back. A laugh escapes me then, because I'm thinking that I've done it. I don't need daggers or swords now. I've found my victory.

As I'm gloating, a piercing scream resonates throughout the arena. I still and wait for the cannon, but it doesn't come. A flock of candy-pink birds take flight from a nearby clearing and I go cold as I think about the possibilities. That scream was a girl's. So it was either Velvet, the girl from District 6 or…

"Maysilee!"

I run towards where the sound came from, my feet seeming to fly and stumble beneath me. I can't let her die alone. Pandora died alone. Torian died in pain. I don't want to Maysilee to go through any of that. She was my friend, my ally. Once I reach the clearing I see a girl on the grass, blonde hair strewn out around her. I sprint over and collapse to my knees beside her, looking her over.

Maysilee is covered in blood. It comes from punctures in her neck that look too clean and sharp to have come from any weapon. I think of the candy-pink birds I saw in flight, and imagine blood on their beaks. Her eyes widen when she sees me and her hand fumbles for me, one last sense of security. She tries to say something, but every effort is choked and painful, making more blood ooze from her wounds.

It takes me a moment to realise that I'm crying. Raw sobs force their way up my throat and I cling to Maysilee's hand as tight as I can, as if that strong grip can stop her from going under. She smiles very faintly, but there are tears tracking down her cheeks. A better person than me would put her out of her misery, but I'm too much of a coward to do that. Instead I hold her hand tightly and I don't take my eyes off her as she grows paler, her struggles feebler.

"You were a great ally," I tell her hoarsely, trying to suppress my anguish, "You saved my life. I only wish I could have done the same for you."

It's heartbreaking to know that all of 12 can see this. Emaleigh, Moira…I made Moira a promise and now I feel like I've broken it. Maysilee's grip slackens and her eyes glass over, and I nearly jump out of my skin as her cannon goes off. It's so sudden, so final. It takes me a moment to establish that my friend, my district partner, is actually dead. When the knowledge hits me, I stagger to my feet.

There are four people left in this arena, two of them Careers. I wasn't sure before, but now I'm determined. I will win this. I will go home. I'll do it for Pandora. For Maysilee. For Emaleigh. For my mum and brother. I'll even do it for Torian.

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><p>It's not long after Maysilee's death that I hear a scuffle nearby. I quickly hoist myself into a tree branch. Although her death numbed me a little, I still have a purpose. I've got no wish to get myself killed. I watch as a girl flits through the trees, and I immediately see that it's not Velvet. This must be the girl from District 6. She's seventeen, I remember, but she is slender and looks younger.<p>

Zeke from 2, the only other surviving Career apart from Velvet, hurtles after her with a sword in his hand. I examine the girl from 6 – I think her name is Indi or something like that. She's tired, her breath coming in ragged pants. Zeke seems barely out of breath in comparison. Although Indi's faster, he'll soon catch up and kill her. I cling to the branch, ignoring the splinters digging into my fingers.

Indi stumbles over a tree log and then the boy from 2 is upon her, grabbing her by the hair and dragging her back as she kicks and screams. Watching her, I can't really imagine why she's managed to survive this long – until, despite her terror, she slams her booted foot into Zeke's jaw. He groans and releases her only momentarily, but even then it's enough for her to scramble to her feet.

Indi pants as she faces him, drawing a dagger from her belt. It's so brave and so stupid that I want to throw something at her. Why is everyone determined to die with dignity? I've got no doubt that she's doing this for her district, to make them proud. Then I figure – she's going to die anyway. Of course she wants to do it in a way that doesn't make her seem like a coward.

Zeke laughs when he regains his composure. "Oh, District 6, that's so cute. You really think you stand a chance against a Career?"

Indi doesn't respond to the taunt. Instead she whirls, her dagger slashing across Zeke's arm. My heart's thudding in my chest as I watch, silently hoping that Indi can manage to slash Zeke's throat. These people tortured Torian. They've seen the death all around them and they revel in it. They're sick, almost as bad as the Capitol. Zeke stumbles again, then his sword goes screaming towards her.

Indi's fast. That's probably why she's managed to get away, because she's been outrunning other tributes. Only I can see the tiredness that seeps into her bones. I know because I feel it too. There's no way Indi can win this fight on adrenaline or speed. Zeke is stronger and he'll take longer to burn out. His smile is insane as he slashes again.

I wish that I could get out of the tree and run, run and not look back. But something glues me to the fight going on before me. I don't know what it is, but I want to watch even though I already know who's going to win. Indi slams her booted foot into Zeke's chest and he growls in anger, slicing across her leg. I don't think I've seen many actual combat deaths in the arena. It's usually quick, not a drawn-out duel.

She whirls, slices again. Zeke catches her wrist and twists hard, resulting in a sharp crack and a high-pitched scream of pain. I gnaw at my lip as I see the madness glittering in his eyes. He presses the tip of his sword to Indi's collarbone, then drives it through without a moment's hesitation. She gurgles, choking in her own blood – but unlike with Maysilee, it's over in a second. Her cannon sounds before she even hits the ground.

"Pathetic," Zeke snarls, drawing his sword from the motionless girl's body. He wipes the blood off it almost obsessively, before he sheathes it and stalks off. I'm left frozen in the tree as they come for Indi's body. Three of us now. Me, and two Careers. My determination's as strong as ever, but doubtful voices start to whisper in my ear.

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><p>Night falls and the remaining Careers grow bolder than ever. They're not together – that would just be stupid – but one of them has the audacity to light a fire. My guess is that it's Zeke. He seems stupider than Velvet, and probably more arrogant. He's probably thinking that he's either got a girl to fight, or a very lucky District 12 tribute. I stay in my own little place of hiding, in a bush where I can see the fire, but not feel its warmth. I see someone lean forward and rub their hands together over the flames. Yep, definitely Zeke.<p>

Maybe I shouldn't camp so close to other tributes, but I want to keep an eye on them. It's better that I know where they are and what they're doing than to have them take me by surprise. Besides, unless he's hiding it very well, Zeke doesn't even know I'm here. It's more dangerous for him than for me right now.

Something skitters along nearby and I nearly jump, reaching instinctively for my knife. I relax when I see something small disappearing, its body golden bright in the firelight. Another creature scampers by and I see it a bit more clearly before it vanishes. It looks like a bit like a squirrel, but I never knew that squirrels had bright golden fur.

_Mutts._ The realisation makes me freeze and go completely cold inside. If there are mutts here, things are definitely going to take a turn for the worse. Maybe if I lie still and pretend I don't exist, then they'll leave me alone. I don't have to though, because I soon notice the squirrel mutts are drawn in by the fire's heat and brightness. Zeke remains unaware, leaning closer to the flames.

One of the squirrels runs past his boot. Zeke curses and leaps back, before realising that what it is and kicking it into the fire. He smirks, probably thinking he's found himself some dinner as the mutt screeches as flames lick its body. Zeke goes to sit back down, but another squirrel mutt launches itself from a tree, clawing and biting at his shoulder. He yells in disgust and shock, grabbing the squirrel and throwing it into the fire with the first one.

Thing is though, there's only one Zeke, and a lot of squirrels. They bombard him then, a chattering angry mass. Zeke stumbles around the camp and through the fire, shouting in pain, trying to get them off – but they're all over him, biting and scratching. He crumples to the ground and all I can see is his body writhing, squirrels all over the place. I hear the sound of chewing and Zeke's cries ascend into screams of agony.

I plug my fingers in my ears, but I can still hear him and the squirrels. It seems like forever before the screams stop and his cannon goes off. I watch as the squirrels make a meal of Zeke, and I want to feel sorry for him, but I don't know if I can. He did a lot of terrible thing, so did he deserve this? Should I be rejoicing, mourning, or something else? The arena's messing with my head. So I'm too busy fretting about Zeke to remember that I'm in the final two.

"DISTRICT TWELVE!"

The roar resonates throughout the arena and I stiffen. Velvet. The only other tribute still in this goddamn arena. Shit, what am I supposed to do now? If I do an Indi and try and battle Velvet, I'm sure to lose. What other weapons do I have, though? I think hard, and it comes to me. I push myself to my feet, ignoring Zeke's mutilated body being picked up by a hovercraft. The force field is my ally. It's the only thing I have over Velvet…so it looks like it's time to use it.


	11. Victor

**Chapter Eleven: Victor**

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><p><strong>AN: Okay, so I probably don't have much to do from here. Possibly an epilogue after this. I want to thank you all for being so supportive, even though this has taken a while to write! I'm also planning a trilogy that revolves around the possibility that Cato won the 74****th**** Hunger Games along with his district partner, an OC. Hopefully you'll check it out!**

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><p>I'm shaking with fear, but I know that I have to do this. It's better to rip a Bandaid off than pull it off slowly. I have to face Velvet on my terms rather than waiting for her to hunt me down. There's too much at stake. I remember my fellow tribute – Pandora, the first dead in the arena. Torian, his agonised screams resonating throughout the trees. Maysilee, choking up blood and clutching at my hand. I will do it for them, for District 12, for all that we've sacrificed in the Games.<p>

Velvet's waiting for me with her axe in her hand and a smirk across her face. I'm cautious, with only a stupid dagger to try and fend her off. I know it's useless, but I have determination on my side. If I can just get her to the force field…but it's looking less and less likely now. District 1 will most likely have its Victor, and District 12 will have its dreams shattered.

"I'm amazed you got this far," Velvet sneers, tightening her grip on her axe. "Not that it matters now. You've come so close, only to fall."

Should I just give up now? No. I have to keep fighting. It's hopeless, but I won't go down a coward. I lunge at her with my puny dagger and she snarls, batting me aside. She hefts up the axe and I panic, rolling. That thing could take my head off in one chop. The axe thuds heavily into the ground and Velvet bares her teeth, pulling it up again.

I slash aimlessly for the dagger. I don't even know what I'm doing with the damn thing. I know I've done something right – or horribly wrong – when Velvet staggers back with a scream of pain. She clamps a hand over her eye, but not before I see blood welling where her eye once was. A sick feeling takes a hold of my stomach as I realise I've actually taken her eye out.

Velvet's facial expression contorts from agony into pure hatred. The rage that lights her face is like nothing I've ever seen before. With a battle cry, she hurls the axe at me. I stumble back, but not before the axe manages to slice into my stomach. I yell and double over, panicking as I try and figure out how much damage has been done. It's sliced through my shirt. It's sliced through my skin. I feel a bit sick now. There's something thick and wet pressing against my hand and blood is pouring from the deep wound. She's cut me open. Literally.

A cry of horror and pain rips out from my throat. It hurts to even move and there's blood soaking the front of my shirt, staining my skin. Velvet's remaining eye shines with glee and that's when I know there's no point in fighting her. I turn and stagger away, stagger like I'm a drunk man, up towards the cliff where I found what might be my salvation. Velvet stalks after me, a hand pressed over where her eye used to be.

She wants to win just as desperately as me. Velvet might be ruthless and cruel, but she's not trying to kill me out of spite alone. She's lost, she's alone, without the other Careers to command. We're both just as determined as the other. Velvet is killing me because she wants to live. My reason for killing her would be the same. There's not triumph on her face now. Only the grimness of a girl who wants to live.

My footsteps are slowing. My vision's blurring in and out and my head's spinning. I guess this is what it feels like when you're dying. It isn't slow, like you might think. It all seems to happen in the blink of an eye. It's over so fast, like wildfire. I see that savage smile on Velvet's face. She raises the axe, throws it at me.

My knees give way and I crumple, the axe soaring over my head. It goes over the cliff – into the force field. It rebounds, comes flying back. I see the horror on Velvet's face as it screams through the open space towards her. I watch as it buries itself in her head. It's almost comical at first, fake. Then she hits the ground and her brains spill out and I know that it's all too real. Her cannon goes off. It takes me a second to comprehend. I've won. I've done it. I've won.

The voice booms out over the arena, empty now, only me in it. "Ladies and gentlemen, the Victor of the 50th Hunger Games – Haymitch Abernathy!"

I should feel elated, happy that I won. I don't feel that. I don't feel remorse for the deaths I've caused, or even sadness for the loss of my fellow tributes. All I can feel is the blood sticking to my fingers, my head throbbing. In terms of emotions? I don't feel anything at all. Not even relief. I flop onto my back and the last conscious image I have is of a hovercraft bearing down to get me out.

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><p>I wake to the beeping of a heart monitor. The monotonous sound makes me grit my teeth and I realise that I'm lying in a white hospital bed, in a white room. Everything's white. It freaks me out a bit. The images flash through my mind. Pandora. Maysilee. Even Torian. I press my face into my hands. <em>Don't you dare cry, Haymitch. Don't you dare.<em> So I don't cry. I hold all the tears and the painful memories inside myself.

Speaking of holding things inside…I wrench back the blankets and lift up my shirt, tracing my fingers over the silver scar down my stomach that's the only reminder of what Velvet did. The door opens and I tense, almost expecting an attack. Cairo enters the room, watching me critically.

"Well done. You won the Games."

"I don't feel like a winner," I remark, because it's the only thing I can think to say. I don't want to ramble on about what I _do_ feel like, because no one wants to hear that. Sometimes it's best just to keep all of the bad stuff locked away inside yourself, and keep on smiling because it's what you're expected to do.

"Easy," Cairo chastises as I sit up gingerly, glancing at my surroundings. It's all unfamiliar to me. Alien. It freaks me out. I think a lot of things freak me out that before the Games, wouldn't really have mattered that much. I take a deep, calming breath. It's so hard to believe that out of forty-eight tributes, I was the only survivors. It's almost funny. I had to be one of the most pathetic in the arena.

I start laughing, because it's either that or crying. I laugh quietly, then louder so that my madness seems to bounce off the walls. After a few moments I hold my stomach and groan in pain. Cairo raises his eyebrows, although he doesn't seem surprised. This is what the Games does to us. It makes us into someone – no, something – we could never see ourselves becoming. Maybe Torian should have won. He was pretty twisted to start off with.

"You should get some more rest," Cairo tells me when I have finished my spastic laughing session. He places a hand on my shoulder but I flinch back, instinctively. He sighs and gets to his feet, walking out.

I try and control what I'm feeling, because suddenly the numbness has been overcome by a surge of emotions. I realise I'm not the same Haymitch Abernathy that left District 12. I never will be the same Haymitch. I'm going home to Mum and Lucan and Emaleigh, but I won't be the same. I'm a shadow of myself and it makes me feel like part of me has died in that arena along with the others. I hold myself then and I sob uncontrollably, for what I've lost and what's yet to come.

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><p>The trip back to District 12 is a mostly silent one. Cairo tells me about the Victory Tour I will have to embark upon. I sit there and listen, but I don't care. None of it matters anymore. All I want to do is go home and curl up in my bed and sleep, maybe forever – but I can't even do that. I have a house in the Victor's Village now, where my family can move in with me. Everything will be big and modern and remind me of the Capitol. Everything that I hate.<p>

We arrive at the station and they're all there. Lucan whoops and runs over, throwing himself into my arms. I hold him tight and screw my eyes shut. I'm glad to be home, I really am, but it doesn't feel the same. Mum walks over as Lucan tugs away and there's a sad smile across her face. She can't know. None of them know how I feel. I wish they wouldn't try. She puts her arms around me and it's like I can't feel her warmth. The Games have destroyed everything.

Emaleigh walks over, and she's solemn. As Mum draws back, she puts her arms around me, and I never want her to let go. While I'm with her, I feel safe. But I remember the coldness in President Snow's eyes. He's not happy with me. I don't know why, but he's not. Whatever I've done, soon enough I'll have to suffer for it. So I hold Emaleigh tightly while I still can, because there's a sick feeling in my stomach that won't go away.

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><p>I wake up to Em drawing back the curtains, the bright light shining into my eyes. I flinch away from it, and she examines me with a sense of loss. She knows I've changed. She knows that we aren't what we used to be. She just doesn't understand what she's supposed to do about it. Em comes and sits on the edge of my bed, leaning across to touch my arm with her usual gentleness.<p>

"Haymitch. Your mum's made eggs and bacon."

The thought should make my mouth water after half-cooked squirrels in the arena. Instead I heave a sigh and sit up like it's a task. It is. Getting back into the swing of everyday life is harder than I expected. I've changed, but no one else has. The world hasn't shifted, I have. I should feel great in this big house, with big rooms and anything I could ever want. But I feel like shit. Because what if it was Maysilee in this house, or Torian?

Moira doesn't hold it against me that her twin died. I think maybe she should. I'd rather see anger in everyone's eyes than have to deal with their congratulations. I'm alive, so what? Only Cairo looks at me with pity, because he understands how hard it is to accept the everyday, to wake up yelling out because you can still remember the arena. Only it's not real anymore. It's all inside my head.


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

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><p><strong> AN: Well, I know it's not very long, but...here's the epilogue to Haymitch's story. It mainly just focuses on how he developed his alcohol addiction.**

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><p><em>2 weeks later <em>

There is always a price for rebellion – and I have paid it. I swill the bottle of brandy in my hand and take another swig. The stuff is foul and burns its way down my throat – and yet, it is the only solace I know. I am alone, but the memories still tear their way through my mind, like screams that I can't silence. I cling to myself and screw my eyes shut as I remember what happened, only days past.

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><p><em>The Peacekeepers came knocking at the door of our house in the Victory Village. It was a huge place, although it seems even bigger now that I'm alone. I remember we were in the kitchen – Mum, Lucan, Emaleigh and I. I could tell by their tense stature that the Peacekeepers weren't there for anything good and I scramble to my feet as they wordlessly grab my family, my girlfriend. I am seized too, grabbed by the collar and dragged out into the street like a common criminal.<em>

_"What's going on?" Mum sounds alarmed, glancing between the Peacekeepers with growing panic. The Peacekeeper holding Lucan force him to his knees. I look into my younger brother's wide, fearful eyes as they level the gun with his head. Like the coward I am, I can't watch them fire the shot. I just remember the sound, Lucan's small body slumping forward, Mum screaming and screaming, tugging against the guards._

_Emaleigh is silent. I glance at her and notice that her bottom lip was trembling, her eyes are screwed shut. She wants to shut everything out, only I know that I can't do the same. I suddenly know why the Peacekeepers are here. I remember ducking as Velvet hurled her axe at me. I had known about the force field. I wasn't supposed to know. My family was going to pay the price._

_It's Mum they drag down next, leveling the gun with her head. I force myself to watch. She offers me a fierce smile through her tears and I know that even though my heart is heavy with guilt, she doesn't blame me. I don't look away, not even as the gun goes off and her body crumples to the ground, lifeless like Lucan's. I glance down at them, the only family I had. My mother and my brother. Their blood stains the streets and it's not fair. They didn't do anything. I wait for the Peacekeepers to force me to my knees, to put a bullet through my brain. I wish they would._

_Only it's Emaleigh who's next. She cries out in panic and I want to run to her, hold her in my arms. I want to tell her that life is the same for us all: that it could all be over in a second. She looks up at me and there's no hatred there, no accusation. She knows I'm the cause of this, but I'm not the one she blames. That makes me feel even worse as they fire the gun once more, and Emaleigh's body gives way. _

_Someone's screaming. It takes me a few moments to realise that it's actually me, wordless sounds of agony escaping me as I reach out for my family, for Em. But the Peacekeepers drag me back into the house. The house in the Victor's Village that is better suited to someone like Torian. I would give up the damn house, anything in the world, to have them all back._

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><p>Their ghosts still linger in my mind, crying out, reaching for me. I shut them away, because it's too painful. I hardly venture out of the house, for I can see the pure hatred of the people of my district. It's my fault that Emaleigh and my family died. Emaleigh's parents don't even look at me, and I hide away from them as much as I can. It's because of her association with me that their daughter was killed. Everyone knows it.<p>

The only person I can talk to is Cairo. Even he doesn't fully understand. He might have won the Games, but he never condemned the people he loves to death. For that, I can't forget and I certainly can't forgive myself. Next year, I will mentor tributes and I will watch them live and die…but I won't hurt for it. I don't deserve to.

I clutch at the brandy bottle in my hand and I smile. One small mercy in a world so cruel. The alcohol drowns the pain, dulls the senses. It tastes terrible, but I don't care much for the taste. I will cling to this, something I can use to numb what's real, to numb what I still have yet to do. Surely feeling nothing at all is better than living in constant pain?

Well, I understand now what I didn't before. You go into the Hunger Games and you fight for a life you can't have back. You fight for something that doesn't exist. In the end, all of the tributes die in the arena – even the Victor. For the only parts that are left now are the ones that don't matter anymore.


End file.
